


The Agreement

by everybreatheverymove



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-03-24 16:06:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3774892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everybreatheverymove/pseuds/everybreatheverymove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: With his political career in need of a boost, Jackson Avery sets out to further his image by finding himself a wife. His employee, sweet and innocent girl-next-door April Kepner, seems like the perfect candidate, with her quirky ways and feminist views, to win America’s heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Arrangement

She always starts her morning the same way.

She’s up by seven o'clock, brushed, dressed and ready to go by eight. She takes the metro down into the city, finds a seat to sit down if she can or stands leaning against the post if she can’t.

And, of course, if a pregnant woman or someone pushing a stroller comes on then she’s the person that moves (if she managed to find her own sit to down in the first place).

Yeah. She’s  _that_  person.

Once she’s a couple of blocks away from the office, she heads into her regularly frequented coffee house to pick up some brews for her and the girls (or, well, women) and works with.

And their orders are generally an array of caramel drizzle macchiatos with a dash of hazelnut syrup and and soya milk to replace the cream, simple black coffee that are too strong, too pure for her own taste, or those fancy chai teas that she’s pretty sure nobody even really drinks but they just like to carry them around.

She, April Kepner, she likes a regular coffee with two sugars and plenty of milk. She’s an easy girl (or, well, woman) to please.

Then she finally gets into her place of work. She’s currently on a low-salary temp job for some hotshot politician who she only ever sees pictures of or maybe catches a glimpse or two of on the news.

Apparently, he’s successful, and charming and is quite easy on the eyes. She isn’t fazed by it though, by the way people fawn over him like a shiny car. Why should she be?

Attractive men have never been interested in her and she always finds herself blushing, stuttering or worse even trembling whenever someone she’s found moderately good looking has spoken to her.

He, the hotshot politician who she’s only ever seen pictures of or caught sight of? She’s never even spoken to him, so why should she care what he looks like or how he uses his supposed charms?

“April!”

She whips her head around to face a blonde jumping up from her seat, hands open and gleefully accepting the cardboard tray of drinks in her hands.

“You are a lifesaver!”

“I know.” The redhead, April, smiles.

The blonde, Arizona, picks up the chai tea from the selection, holds out the tray in the other hand, taking it out of April’s concerns.

“So,” She begins, eyes widening at the delicious taste of her beverage, “It’s Friday. We’re all going out for drinks later. You wanna join?”

April has to bite her bottom lip then, dropping her eyes to the carpeted floor quickly. “Ah- I don’t know.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun! Callie wants to try out this new bar downtown! It’s meant to be super fancy.” She wiggles a brow, nudges the redhead’s side.

April Kepner does not do bars, because on the rare occasion that she does, she usually ends up drinking too much and making a fool out of herself.

April Kepner would rather stay at home, back in her too-small-for-its-own-good apartment, and read a novel in bed after preparing a delicious but cheap meal. She might drink a little wine, might Skype for a little while with her best friend.

But April Kepner does not do bars.

“I can just want to stay in tonight.”

Arizona pouts, eyeing her carefully before shrugging her shoulders after a moment, dropping the topic. “Okay.” She smiles, waves the tray around, “I’m gonna go dish these out. But I’ll text you the address later anyway, alright? In case you change your mind.”

With that, she’s turning back around down the hallway and leaving April stood alone in the middle of the way, hand clasping the purse hanging from her shoulder and too many thoughts rushing through her brain.

She didn’t think a job like this would entail so many invitations, in all honesty.

April, do you wanna come out and party tonight?

April, I know a guy you will just love! Shall I set you up?

She took the job as a way of making ends meet, because she was twenty five and alone in Seattle while her family was back in Ohio and her student loans needed paying off, slowly if not surely.

She’d studied political science, and had excelled in the domain. But there was a lack of jobs seeking that sort of qualification in the Washington state and she had no means of leaving and starting up afresh somewhere else.

And then this opportunity came along, and it helped. Lexie scored her a temp job in the office, probably because she knew (slept with) one of the advisers of the supposedly hot hotshot’s campaign.

She would kill to be doing a thousand other things than this, then helping sort through documents and proofread notes and whatnot. But it paid, and she needed the money.

As a Christian, her parents had always told her that money never mattered much to man, that he needn’t be selfish with his expenses and that gold would never truly make a man happy.

She’d learnt differently here, however. Money makes the world turn.

Sliding her purse across her desk, and signing into her computer, she drops her head into her hands, growls deeply.

Maybe she should pop into church during her lunch break. Just as a quick reminder to herself of what truly matters in life.

\- - - -

“Where are you right now?”

April glances around her, tucks a fallen strand of hair behind her ear when an elderly man sat a pew away glares in her direction. “I’m in church.” She hushes down the phone.

“For real?” Lexie Grey’s disbelieving voice seeps through the phone. “It is noon on a Friday, why the heck are you in church?”

April rolls her eyes, grips her phone in her left hand as she waves her right hand over her body, up and down, left and right.

“I am praying!”

She stands up then, nods down at the holy statue of Christ hanging at the head of the church a final time before picking up her purse and smiling politely at the old man as she walks past him on her way out.

“Why?” She can hear the smirk in her best friend’s voice, “Did you do something bad? April, did you hook up with someone?!” Now she’s definitely disbelieving.

“No, I did not ‘hook up’ with someone!” She sighs, groans silently as she exits the church and stops in her tracks when she arrives on the street outside.

Lexie tssk’s on the other end, “Well, then what were you praying or confessing or…preaching about?”

“Gluttony.”

“Oh.” She pauses, clears her throat and earns a confirming ‘yep’ from April. “Right.”

“Yeah.”

“Anyway, moving along,” Lexie continues, “You didn’t forget about our plans for later, did you?”

April’s eyes widen, her lips parted as she trails the word, “Plans?” She squeaks, receiving a groan from her friend in reply.

“We’re supposed to be going shopping and then to dinner. I have some stuff to tell you.” She smiles as she speaks and the redhead nods to herself, popping into a small bakery to buy a muffin for her lunch.

“Right. Yes. Okay.” She licks her lips, eyeing the counter display, “Hey, Lex, I’ll see you later.”

“Busy woman, ugh!” The brunette giggles, calls out a quick goodbye before hanging up. “See ya!”

“Bye.”

\- - - -

Stepping back behind her desk, April slips her light jacket over the back of her chair neatly.

She settles down to log in, pick up where she left off, her hands curled above her keyboard until a shouting match across the hall catches her attention.

She’s never been a nosy person, but even the nicest souls eavesdrop sometimes.

“I heard he’s being sued.” A voice beside her interrupts her thoughts and April turns her head to face Jo, a temp-y just like her.

“Really? For what?” She assumes he is the hotshot politician she works for.

Jo shrugs, spins around in her chair and twirls her pen between her fingers. She crosses her legs beneath her Indian style and licks her lips. “Probably got into bed with the wrong person again.”

“He’s-” April pauses, bends her neck to try and catch a glance of their boss, “He sleeps around?” She hushes, teeth gritted and eyes squinting over at the young brunette.

The other temp lets out an obvious 'Ha!’ noise, raises both brows as she stares April down, “Have you seen him? Damn. Of course he does!” She shakes her head as she talks, brown eyes watching the two men in the office as they pace back and forth.

April falls silent when the office door in question suddenly springs open, making Jo swivel back around in her seat.

A tall grey-haired man walks out of the doorway, hands on his hips as he looks around the room for a second or two, brows knitted as he searches the crowd of employees.

Jo sends April a curious look, almost as though she’d have an answer. The redhead frowns, lifts and drops both shoulders, just as confused as the other woman is.

The man walks around the room full of desks, down between the cubicles and seemingly dropping his focus on every woman he finds.

Was one of the women here suing him or something? Did he sleep with an employee?

April goes to roll her eyes in disbelief at the boss’ obvious indiscretions when the grey-haired man stops next to Jo’s bureau.

The young brunette stills, glances up at him daringly, “Can I help you, sir?” Jo smiles, crossing her legs professionally.

He scratches his chin for a moment, looks down at her politely, only shaking his head when he catches sight of her wedding ring.

She married young, after falling pregnant at sixteen and moving into her boyfriend Alex’s apartment. April knows them, has seen them together. They’re cute, a now perfectly married couple, parents to two children.

“You.”

April’s attention flicks back up at the man now stood beside her. She gulps, turns around in her chair, chewing the inside of her bottom lip for a second. “Me?”

“Yeah.” He nods twice, “Get up.”

Is she being fired? She’s pretty sure she never slept with anyone, or sued them, so-“

“Come on, get up. Come with me.” He waves a finger around, sighs as she takes her time, baffled by the whole situation.

“Am I being fired?” April asks as she begins to follow him down the short corridor, sending Jo a worried looked. The brunette just stares back, holds up both hands as though she hs no information to share.

“No. You aren’t being fired.” The man chuckles, “I do need to ask you some questions though.”

He ushers her into the office she’d been spying into a few short minutes ago, and pulls out a seat for her. April sits down carefully, folding the lapels of her skirt beneath her thighs. “Okay?”

The man walks behind the desk at the head of the room then, bypassing the man stood by the window. The man she’s guessing is her boss, the hotshot politician she’s barely ever been bothered to look at. There’s a women she hadn’t noticed stood by the wall on her right, cell phone in her hand.

“Are you presently married?”

“I- I’m sorry?” She gasps a breath, lifts both brows.

“Are you married?” The grey-haired man repeat, pen in his hand, clearly ready to take notes of some sort.

“Um…” She doesn’t know why she pauses. Of course she isn’t married. “No.”

“Are you in a relationship?”

April lets a small laugh escape past her lips at that, but she quickly recovers, hand before her mouth apologetically. He doesn’t seem like he’s in the laughing mood.

“No. I am not…in a relationship.” She grins, glances around the room curiously.

“Do you date?”

“Nope.” She breathes out, almost a little bit too quickly.

“Are you sexually active?”

“I-” She swallows another breath, hazel eyes watching him dangerously then, “Does it matter? Actually what am I even doing here?”

The office has no personal pictures, only a few professional snapshots of beaches and forests. It’s very plain, very minimal, very macho.

“You are aware that we are currently working on the Avery Campaign, are you not?”

“Of course.” She spends her days rearranging files and meetings for it.

He stands up from his perch, leans against the front of the desk after rounding the corner. “Then you must also be aware that Mr Avery has to have the most…appealing image of himself?”

She’s pretty sure from what she overhears in the ladies’ bathrooms that he already has an appealing image.

“Yes?”

“Good.” The older man in the room nods, smiles down at her nicely. “So you’re aware that in order to obtain the women’s vote in his race for Mayor, that Mr Avery will need to have a positive influence on the women of our wonderful city?”

“Sure?”

“Do you, as a woman, think that being a single man, or a married man, would have a greater impact on the women’s vote?”

Are they asking her, quiet April Kepner from Ohio, if the potential future Mayor of Seattle should get hitched?

“I think when women see a single man, they assume he can play with them. He can flirt with them and alter their political views because their personal views of him will have been changed. If he smiles, and uses his eyes when he talks, then shallow women are going to be more easily influenced by his looks rather than his opinions.”

April pauses then, half unsure of what she’s even saying. She shoots the man stood by the window a quick glance, eyeing the back of his suit carefully.

“A married man is more trustworthy, unless the media gets wind of him playing around, that is. But, yes, generally, a married man will earn more votes, more confidence from smarter women because he can’t possibly be using them as toys. You know what I mean? He can charm his way into their ballot slip, but he won’t be too suggestive and he’s portrayed as a caring husband or maybe father, and women love that. Women love the attention. A married man has a women at his side, and these women are in love with power. So, if his wife has a little authority over him, no matter how big, then…” She blushes, pushes her hair behind her cheeks. “I’m not making any sense, am I? Are you gonna fire me now?” She bites her bottom lip, drops her gaze to the floor.

The grey-haired man grins, shaking his head with an amused look on his face, “You did just fine.”

“Were you testing me?”

“No. We-” He stops, faces her boss by the window, the hotshot stood with his hands in his trouser pockets. “We were looking for you.”

“Looking? As in…” She stares blankly between the two men, completely confused by the meaning of this little meeting.

“Your boss is in need of a wife, Miss Kepner, and we think you would be a perfect fit.”

Did she hear that right? Because-

“What?!”

He turns around then, the hotshot with the hands in his pockets and the smile she’s pretty sure she’s heard talked about a thousand times.

“You don’t have to say yes.”

“But…” The woman in the room trails off, finishing for him and finally breaking her silence, “It would be great if you did.” She nods down at the redhead, “You seem sincere, and kind, Miss Kepner. And while I am more than positive that Avery over here could marry any woman he wanted to, his taste has never been very…down-to-earth.”

She sits in silence as the woman talks, her knuckles turning a disgusting white from gripping the edge of her seat so tight, her legs jumpy. Her mouth is dry, her lips deserted as she rambles on about needing a woman to further Avery’s image, about him needing a wife to earn the women’s vote.

“Why would I agree to this?”

“I imagine you have student loans that will eventually need paying off. And I’m willing to bet you live in a small apartment on the edge of town and you take the metro to come into work every day. You probably have a pet, a small dog or maybe even a kitten? And you eat microwavable meals almost every night because lord knows you can’t do out to dinner every night.”

How does she-

“Maybe you don’t date because you’re a recluse, maybe you have intimacy issues. Maybe you shop in the mall instead of buying designer. Maybe you can’t afford to visit your folks back home in whatever midwestern state you come from every holiday and you feel guilty about that. Maybe you don’t want to work here but it was available and you needed the money, even though you’re being severely underpaid for spending eight hours a day sat on your ass typing up files. Maybe the thought of never being able to pay off your debts keeps you up at night. Maybe you worry every night because you’re nearing thirty and you still aren’t married and you have this crippling feeling that you’ll end up alone, and broke, and broken, and your existence will boil down to one small grain of sand in the desert. Am I close?”

April feels her head begin to pound as she blinks, shifting her gaze to the ceiling unbelievably.

What was even happening?

“We would like you to become his wife, Miss Kepner. You can say no, you can go back to your desk and pick up your work where you left off and none of this needs to ever be brought up again.”

The brunette in the room continues to speak, approaches April’s chair slowly.

“But if you accept this, which we would never force you into, all of your debts will be paid off. You can have your own room in Avery’s apartment on the upside of town. You can buy designer clothes, you can eat whenever and whatever and wherever you’d like. You can visit your relatives, they can visit you. The only thing we ask, if you agree, is that this remains confidential. America will have to think you are in love.”

“Does he talk?” April finally pipes up, standing and pointing a finger out at her boss, smirk toying on his lips at her question.

“Yes, I talk.” Jackson turns to look at her, bright green eyes scanning her slowly.

Petite, redhead, skin as pale as snow had never been his kind of woman. But she’s attractive, and she can talk, something that will be vitally asked of her if she agrees to this. She’s wearing a short skirt, a floral blouse and some flats that he’s pretty sure she finds cute. He can definitely picture her in a dress though, by his side. He can picture her naked, too, despite his best intentions. She looks like she’d be a screamer, hidden behind all that innocence and whatnot.

April swallows a shaky gulp before she holds a hand out to him to shake, holding her breath when his tanned fingers wrap around her own. Damn it. He is appealing, after all. He scruff on his face and his perfectly groomed everything and his tailored suit are killing her.

His skin is dark, but a wonderful mixture of caramel and chocolate and his eyes are a bright contrast. His smile is probably worth a million bucks, and she finds her cheeks flushing a faded crimson colour when he smirks at her, shakes her head accordingly.

“Jackson.”

“April.” She ducks her head then, tries not to let her inner teenager get the most of her.

Why is he so hot, after all? She knows she’s not bad looking herself, but they have to be on completely different levels of attractive surely.

“Do you agree?”

“To this?” April feels his hand slip away from hers then, a spark shooting up her spin when his skin leaves hers. She takes a long heavy breath, feeling her shoulders rise, her muscles tighten as she comes to a decision.

It’s not like she’s ever going to find anybody to marry her for love anyway. And while she’s the furthest you get from being shallow, she’s also not an idiot. It’s a smart move; pretend to be a politician’s wife to advance his career and rise her social standing.

Lexie would be proud. Jesus, however, …

“Yes.”

“Wonderful.” The brunette pitches, slapping both hands together once. “I’m going to plan a dinner for you both tonight. We need the press to see you together, get the word out.”

“Tonight? I-” She, what? Has plans with her best friend? Was going to eat dinner and then go home alone and talk to her puppy? She catches Jackson’s inquisitive eyes then, “Nevermind.”

“Okay.” He smiles, shoves both hands back into his pockets then. “Thank you for this, April.”

The way he speaks her name makes her skin erupt in goosebumps and feels like a lame teenager at the prom again. Then again, only a fool could accept this, couldn’t they?

“So, we’re going to get you married pretty fast, down at the court house tomorrow. It should be over with in a hurry. But we’re also going to need to plan a bigger ceremony, so you can invite all of your friends and family and such, okay?” The brunette who’s name she still doesn’t know grabs her arms gently, “This is going to be good. For you, and us.”

“Right.” April slips out quietly, shoulders high as she breathes out, still shocked by what she’s doing. “Am I still going to work here, or-”

“Oh. No.” The woman in the leather skirt shakes her head with a comforting smile, “Maybe just for the end of the day. Tomorrow, you don’t need to come in to work. We can start moving you into Jackson’s apartment before we head down to the courthouse.”

She blinks a few times, trying to understand it all. It’s way too fast. An hour ago, she’d been buying a muffin that still sat untouched on her desk. Now she was being catered to by people who wanted to make her into Mrs Avery, wife of the future Mayor. “Can I just-”

“Yeah?” Jackson faces her again, eyes checking her move as she fidgets, licks her lips with pause. “What is it?”

_How old are you? Who are your parents? Where were you born? What is your favourite colour? Do we have to have sex? Are you expecting me to sleep with you? How long do we have to be married? Are we meant to be making babies? Do you like dogs? Roses or tulips for the wedding?_

“Can I go eat my muffin now? I’m starving.”

The woman, who spins around from the desk and hands her a small white card with a printed “Amelia Shepherd, Publicist.” written across the front, nods, grins at her innocence. “Sure. Take this. Call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks.”

She goes to leave until she feels a hand on her upper arm, long fingers wrapped around her bicep. Glancing back around, she notices Jackson stood directly behind her, breath on her neck and voice low as he whispers.

“Thank you, again, April.”

“We’re just helping each other out, right?” She shrugs, smiles politely before heading out, feeling a tingle on her arm when his touch leaves her body again.


	2. The Understanding

“Dinner?” Lexie raises a brow, tilting her head to one side with a hand on her hip, fingers tapping against her jeans. “Some guy asks you to marry him, out of the blue, and you agree, and then all he can do to ease you into this is dinner?!”

April licks her lips, lowers herself down onto the small sofa in the clothing store. She grasps one of the pink cushions, pulls into her lap comfortingly and plucks the corner, nodding her head slowly.

“I don’t think it was really his plan. His publicist kind of- I think she decides stuff for him. I don’t know.” The redhead shrugs, pouting softly as she looks up to her friend.

The brunette stands with a frown playing on her forehead, lips pursed, “This is crazy.” She nods once, eyes wife as though it’ll get her message across better.

“I know.”

“You agreeing to do this? That’s crazy, too.”

“I am aware.”

“D'you even get a decent wedding dress out of all this?”

“Lexie!” April rolls her eyes, places the cushion back down, drops her hands to her knees, just below the material of her skirt. “Just…tell me I’m not stupid for doing it.”

Lexie sighs, “Look, I’m probably not the best person you could ask about this, to be honest. I mean, look, the- He’s good looking, right? You could do a hell of a lot worse.” She reasons, grinning slightly, “And he’s rich, and could probably cater to your every…desire.” She stiffs a laugh then, holds up both hands defensively when April quickly tosses the cushion at her.

“I’m serious!”

“So am I! I’ve seen his hands! You know what they say…” She flicks out her thumb and index finger, waving her hand about. “The distance between the tips is most likely the length of his penis, April. He has long fingers.” She states matter-of-factly.

“Oh my gosh!”

“Chill, I’m kidding. But, you know, I’m not.” Lexie smirks, smugly placing her hands back on her hips. “Okay. Right.” She begins, noticing April’s clearly uneasy expression. “Just…walk me through what happened.”

“I’ve explained it all twice already!”

Lexie huffs, folding her arms this time, watching as April slouches back in her seat and leans her head against the back of the comfy sofa. “So…are you sure you want to agree to this? If you marry this guy, your life is going to be changed forever. You do realise that, right?”

April nods, teeth chewing at her bottom lip nervously. “Yeah. I think so.”

“No more dates.”

“I don’t date anyway.”

“No more casual sex.”

“Do you know me at all?” The redhead blinks, breathing in a sharp intake of air at the thought.

“You’re going to have to change your name.”

The Kepner name had been around in her family for maybe a quiet hundred years, mostly remaining in Ohio, on the farms. Could she, could her family, handle her name being brought up on the news once it changes? Future hopeful Mayor to marry country girl April Kepner, soon-to-be Avery.

Maybe the headline wouldn’t make the news though? If they’re already getting married tomorrow tonight and she changes her name straight away then maybe her family wouldn’t have to hear about it? Wouldn’t need to know that they’re second daughter has gone off to another state and become a politician’s wife.

Her mother’s a teacher, her father’s a farmer. Who the hell does she think she is to do this? She doesn’t come from a political background. She wasn’t brought up worrying about human rights and policies and laws.

She’d always envisioned her wedding to be beautiful, simple. She’d always imagined herself getting married to some vet or a high-ranking employee of some kind.

A courthouse marriage wasn’t what she wanted. A hotshot husband wasn’t what she’d pictured.

She wanted a house with a white picket fence, not a fancy apartment on the upper side of town. She wanted children and a lifetime of happiness, not some loveless marriage with a man who knew absolutely nothing about her.

She wanted her wedding, and the intimacy that would come with it to be beautiful, meaningful. Not a chore, a favour.

Was she prepared to swap the dreams she’d once had for her recent desires.

She needed the money, and the security, and he seemed like enough of a gentleman.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he’d be even more charming once she got to know him? Maybe she could find herself loving him eventually?

But would she even need to? Unsure on how long they were expecting them to stay married, April couldn’t decide whether it was in her best intentions to possibly fall for a man who may never see her as anything more than a favour and an investment.

Could she even live with herself for making a decision like this?

“I know.”

“Are you…” The brunette begins, squinting brows eyes slightly, “April, you do know you’re probably gonna have to sleep with him?”

“I’m-” April pauses, glancing up at the ceiling with parted lips momentarily, still thinking over her options. “I know.”

“It might not be so bad though. So make sure he knows that you’re-”

“I know, Lex. I don’t need reminding of my prolonged virginity.”

“Okay. Just- Are you sure? You can’t just rush into this, April. It’s life altering.” This is the best Lexie, the one that worries.

The temp takes in a deep breath, feels her lungs vibrate as she exhales.

Would she ever find love anyway? Would she ever be courageous enough to find someone to marry her? Would she ever lose her innocence any other way? It’s not like men were knocking down her door, trying to win her heart.

Why not give him a chance? And, even if it goes bad, at least she’ll have tried, learned something from the experience. Granted, the “experience” will have changed her life but it had to be worth a shot, right? And it would solve all of her problems, despite how selfish she felt for thinking of it.

“I’m sure, Lex.”

“Okay.” Her best friend smiles reassuringly, supporting her decision. It’s her life after all, she was just an advisor. “So, when is the dinner?”

“In…” April glances down at her watch, “two hours!”

Her eyes bulge then and Lexie claps both hands together, “Well, we need to hurry up and get you ready then!”

“Am I that hideous?”

“You’re that…basic, April. Sorry to tell you.” The brunette points out, “Have you seen Michelle Obama? She has class. You have…ass. And it’s nice ass. I’m sure he’ll love it. But, you know, we need to focus on scrubbing you up all nice and fancy now, don’t we?”

“You’re really not helping my confidence here, you know? How is it going to be believable that he’d marry someone that looks like me when he looks like…that?” She pauses, her eyes catching sight of the television playing in the food court across the way. Pointing a finger out at the image of her impending groom grinning smugly to whatever he was being asked on the screen, “Come on!”

“I am going to make you look totally fuckable, alright?”

“Lexie!”

“Oh, hush!”

\- - - -

Somehow, Amelia had managed to score her address and arrange for some driver to pick her up.

Heading out of her apartment building and into the chilly Seattle air in a short dress was already a step too far for April, but having an a-little-bit-too-shiny black car pull up and a man open the door for her and offer her a drink in the backseat was way tok much for her to handle.

It was strange. Being waited upon, treated like some sort of prize, gift, when in reality she wasn’t the kind of person who deserved or needed such things.

She could have driven herself to the restaurant, or bar, or whatever. And she definitely wouldn’t have been drinking on the way over.

She had the impression that Jackson was nice, decent, would at least pick her up himself if her was going to force her into a private car.

But, no, he was nowhere to be seen until she arrived at the bar, and the attendee led her to his table, and she’d found him in deep conversation on the phone.

He was obviously busy, so she could kind of excuse him for his absence in the car. But it was still ridiculous.

She tugs on the edge of her dress as she nears the table, glancing around at her surroundings timidly. It’s dark, and loud over in the opposite corner of the room, probably from a bunch of women enjoying their Friday night a little bit too much.

“Hi.” She speaks softly, biting into her bottom lip as she stops in front of her, purse clasped in front of her lap.

Jackson nods once, glances up at her with a small smile, still clearly distracted by his call. He mouths something to her but she’s too out of her comfort zone to try and interpret the word, and he gestures a hand down beside him, urging her to sit down.

She slides in the booth by his side, thighs pressing closely together with uncertainty and she even contemplates leaving as she places her small clutch on the a-little-bit-too-shiny black table.

Maybe this, all of it, was a bad idea. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this?

Could she handle these dark restaurants and secluded conversations, and having to sit through it all in a dress that she felt was too tight, and heels she couldn’t wait to get out of.

Lexie had talked her into wearing a cream coloured tight-fitting dress, with short sleeves and stopping mid-thigh.

It was so far out of April’s usual sense of fashion, that she’d refused at first, held up her own for a good thirty minutes until her friend had pointed out that he’d appreciate it.

She never did anything to impress a man, her very short list of ex-flames proving that to be true. But he was going to be different. She’d have to alter her ways slightly.

Granted, he needed her just as much as she needed his offer, but he could probably find at least ten other girls like her in the Seattle area. She was just convenient, and probably a little bit too innocent, which was probably why she was chosen.

April crosses her legs after a second’s thought, deciding that her unbearable heels would be easier to manage if she was only relying on one of them. They were a deep nude colour, contrasting perfectly with her pale skin, and Lexie had curled her hair to one side, applied the faintest but kindest touches of makeup to her face.

She had to admit that she looked nice, a definite upgrade from her usual flats and floral skirts. But was it not too much of a change?

“Hi.”

She turns at the sound of his voice then, feels the heat radiating from his smile catch her gaze.

April licks her lips, “Hey.” She tightens her grip on the edge of the table, taps her fingertips against the side.

“Did you already eat?”

“Yeah.” Lie number one.

Jackson nods then, waves down some waiter that seems to be lingering in the corner at his every beck and call for the night.

He orders some drinks, decides in her place. Of course. He probably thinks she’s uncultured and unable to know a good drink when she sees one.

“So,” He folds both hands together on the table, facing her again, “How are you?”

Damn, he has piercing eyes. And that smile could probably break her heart if she let it.

“I’m okay.” She manages to squeak, almost hitting herself in the face as she realises what she must have sounded like. “I mean, I’m, you know, I’m alright.”

April nods, mostly to herself, feeling a soft blush rush to her cheeks when he grins, obviously amused by her awkwardness.

“I’m alright, too, by the way.” He informs her, brows knitting as the waiter brings over a tray.

“Sorry.” She ducks her head, takes a deep breath and glances down at his outfit. Who the heck can pull off just a simple pair of black trousers and a white shirt and tie so good? And it’s dark!

“Nah, I get it.” He offers her a drink. Martini. Damn it. He literally means business.

April kindly accepts the glass, feels her shoulders drop a little more comfortably when he licks his lips, tastes his own scotch. She gulps, flicks her eyes over him, studying his frame. And then her eyes drop to his hands and she feels her face flush, her cheeks and neck reddening softly. Luckily, he can’t tell the difference of in her complexion, his green eyes darkened by the crappy-but-probably-actually-very-fancy lighting around them.

Did he pick this little spot intentionally?

“Tell me about yourself, April Kepner.” He raises a brows, faces her again and watches her expression change, from surprise to a smile.

“I- Uh-” She starts, places her glass back down on the table, messes with the small straw. “I’m from Ohio.” She holds back from telling him that she comes from a farm. Maybe that’d be off-putting. And she’s put in the effort up until now so she really doesn’t want him flacking just because she grew up with cows and chickens.

“Yeah.” He nods, waits for her continue. So he’s not even going to share anything about himself?

“And, I-” She shrugs, swallows a sharp breath before picking her glass back up, holding it the way Lexie had showed her how to. Wrap your fingers around the stem and make it classy, April!

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to right now. But I will need to know about you eventually, April.” He grins, leans closer towards her, “And I plan to learn everything about you.”

She loosely smiles, feels her breath stop when he drops his hand to her knee softly, only for a fraction of a second, only momentarily.

“Why do you need to know everything about me?”

“Because once we go through with this, people could use information about you against me. You need to be completely honest with me.” Jackson explains, hand falling to the space between them on the leather seat.

April watches as he blinks repeatedly, tongue grazing his lower lip as he talks.

“What kind of information?” Not that she has anything to hide, any dead bodies under her belt.

“I’m gonna need to know about your family, and where you grew up.” She stills then, obviously aware that she’ll have to tell him about the farm. “I’m gonna need the names of anybody you’ve ever had sexual contact with, stemming from a kiss to intercourse.”

He speaks so eloquently about sex and she has to stiff a laugh, holding a hand up against her mouth when he frowns, noticing her pause. “Sorry.”

Yeah, that isn’t going to be a long list.

April clears her throat then, eyes wide as she engages his full attention again, “What else?”

“Your friends, your circle of people, your family. We’re going to need you to lie to them, April.”

“I-” Could she even do that? “What about just one person? My best friend, she- She would never tell anybody.” She nods, tries to reason with him, swallows a nervous breath when he continues to frown. Lexie already knows. Oops. Maybe they should have mentioned this earlier.

“No.” He firmly tells her, “Look, I’m sorry but we can’t have anybody know about this being a business arrangement. It could backfire on all of us. Okay?” His voice deepens and she nods slowly after a moment, eyes lowering to her thighs when his hand drops to her knee again.

He doesn’t let go this time, however.

“Are you positive that you want to do this?” Jackson lifts a brow, erases his seemingly semi-permanent frown. “I would understand if you didn’t, April. I wouldn’t hold it against you. It’s a lot to process in such short time.”

“I just fail to see how I’m the best candidate, I suppose.” The redhead confesses, brushing her hair behind her ear even though it doesn’t fall, and her eyes shift back and forth from his face to his hand on her skin.

“You’re you.”

“You don’t know me”

“But I will do.” He swallows, nostrils flaring for a brief moment and she could swear she sees his gaze drop to her lips. “You seem opinionated, April. Which is good. We need that, I need that. It’s gonna me. You get to do whatever you want at a small price and in return I get you.”

“What do you mean, ‘you get me’?”

Jackson chuckles, shifts his hand from her knee to her thigh, long fingers wrapping around her flesh softly.

She would smack him away if he was anybody else. But he’s nice and he isn’t exactly pressuring her into doing anything and she’s going to marry him anyway.

“I get your image, April.” He reassures her, though she’s still sure there will be more to their agreement. “The women of this city seem to have a problem with me, and-”

“Because you flirt with them.” She slips out suddenly,clamping a hand over her mouth as soon as she realises her spill.

He stares at her, slightly stunned by her outburst, “I- What?”

“When you- when you’re on TV or whatever. You- you do this thing where you smile and you like bat your eyelashes without actually doing it. It’s like you’re trying to score some brownie points just by flirting with women you’ve never even spoken to.”

“Okay…”

“And then, I mean, you’ve got that whole six-pack thing going on. I mean, did you really need to do that photoshoot in just your pants? Was that for the women, too? I don’t think it worked. And you obviously know it didn’t. While you’re certainly charming and attractive, women aren’t as foolish as they once were. We can see through it. You can be a little transparent.”

He just sits there smirking to himself as she rambles, continues on about why his campaign for the women’s vote hasn’t worked thus far.

“See?”

“What?” Her eyes widen, realising what she’s just done.

“You’re opinionated. You know what women want, and what they need. Women will love you.”

“So… I’m like the mayonnaise to your french fries.” She tries, herself confused by her comparison, a little embarrassed by it even. Great. Now he probably thinks she’s an idiot.

“You’re like my mayonnaise, yeah.” He confirms, holds back a grin when she blushes.

April lets out a small giggle at her own expense, head throwing back against the back of the booth, “That was a really bad example. I’m sorry.”

“It was fine.”

“I guess we’re gonna have to work on my slang.”

“I’m gonna have to Eliza Doolittle you into the real world of politics.” He teases her, proudly smiling when she laughs, closes her eyes and feels her chest pant as she breaths.

“Like the movie, yes!”

“Yeah.”

This is exactly why he (and his advisors) wanted her. She’s sweet, clearly too down-to-Earth for her own good.

“Educate me.” She picks up her glass, chews off the olive from the small stick tastefully, unaware of his hungered gaze sweeping over her features.

She’s gentle, soft, womanly but with young eyes.

“Right now?”

“Yes!” April turns to face him fully, ignoring the feeling his hand sparks when it slides further up her thigh as she shifts.

She folds one leg beneath the other, sits sideways and drops her hands to her lap, contemplating whether or not she should try and touch his hand

She doesn’t have to, because he does it first, moves his fingers across her lap until he taps against the back of her hand, eyes oh her face.

“What do you want a lesson on?”

She bats her lashes, feels her past discomfort no longer present, suddenly at a complete ease around him. She needs to get used to this anyway, to being around him, and having him touch her.

“Everything.”

She nods eagerly as she speaks, licking her lips dryly and watches his own face, noticing his change of expression, darker, tanned skin glistening in the lighting.

“You need to be more specific.” Jackson informs her, eyes squinting at the corners as he takes in her body, face and mind, taking in the way she keeps glancing down at his mouth.

“Well, I’m not very experienced.” She tells him, biting into her bottom lip for a moment before she continues, clearing up the air before he gets the right idea. “In politics, that is.”

“Just in politics?” He picked it up, didn’t he? The smirk on his face confirms it. Damn it. But he plays along, lifting his other hand to the side of her neck gently.

“Yeah.” She breathes out, feels her skin erupt in goosebumps when his right hand cups her jaw and he nears her, gaze lowered solely on her lips.

April raises a hand to his own face, pressing her index and middle fingers to his chin, running the pads of her fingertips over his bottom lip softly.

Her palm scrapes against the gentle scruff of his jaw, eyes unable to tear away from his.

Is this what being married to him would be like? She could do this all day.

They don’t move for a moment, and the only sounds she can hear are of her own breathing, and the sound of her deep gulps burning her eardrums.

She breaks the silence eventually though, feeling her legs clamp shut when his hand traces higher, just below the edge of her dress. Oh, crap.

“I need to pee.” She doesn’t.

“Oh.” He knits both brows, removes his hand from her lap as she goes to move, unfolding her legs and shuffling out of the booth, making sure her dress is still covering her thighs.

April smiles, takes a final sip of her drink as she stands up, grabbing her clutch from the table and walking around towards the front. “I’ll be right back.”

He just watches as she goes to the end of their little room, stops to ask the waiter for directions towards the restroom.

April walks away with heavy breaths, her chest tight as she thinks over what had just happened. How is she supposed to do this?

She stops at the sinks when she slips into the women’s bathroom. Resting her clutch down in front of her, she drops her eyes to the tiled floor, taking deep breaths.

“April?”

Her back stiffens when she hears the familiar voice, and she slowly glances up to see Arizona stood beside her at the sink, body facing her directly and eyes shocked.

The blonde woman hitches a brow, looks her up and down accusingly, “Is this why you didn’t want to come out with us tonight?”

Is it- Was it here?! Damn it.

“I- Uhm…”

“I get it, April. You had a date. That’s cool. You could’ve just told me.” Arizona smiles reassuringly, resting a hand on her shoulder as she stands up straight, taking one final sharp intake of air.

“It’s not-”

“You look hot, by the way! He must be worth it, because wowza!”

The women begin to head out of the bathroom and April hopes to God that nobody else from the office sees her here, or that Arizona doesn’t drag her off towards their table for a little visit.

“Where is he, huh?” The older blonde grins, folding her arms over chest and messing with her heart necklace as she glances around the bar, searching for her colleague’s supposed date.

“He’s-”

April grits her teeth behind closed lips when she spots Jackson approach them out of the corner of her eye.

Arizona turns around them, as though on time because she knew of his arrival.

Her eyes widen as the man stops beside them, hands behind his back and a smile plastered on his lips.

“Oh, hi!” The blonde greets him, “Boss, what are you doing here?”

Because Arizona works closely with him. Because Arizona knows him. Because Arizona knows him as her boss and not as a boss and future husband.

“I’m here with my fiancé.” He tells her, voice low, husky as he talks and April’s breath catches when he flicks her a brief glance.

“Oh, uh, you’re engaged?” Arizona pouts as she shakes her head, expression turning to a smile, “I must have missed that memo. But, wow! Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Jackson grins smugly, slowly moves a hand to the low of April’s back and keeps his eyes focused on Arizona for a second longer, waiting for her reaction. “You ready to go?”

The redhead looks up at him curiously, forehead creased and mouth dry. “Yeah.” She whispers, turning back to her friend with an uneasy smile.

Arizona glances between the pair, keeping a disbelieving but stunned look on her face, eyes wide and lips pursed.

“You-?” She waves a finger around, a little confused by the image in front of her. When the hell did this happen?

“We’ll see you around, Robbins. Enjoy your night.” Jackson nods once, twice, slips his hand on the redhead’s back around her waist, pulling her into his side comfortably.

April quickly says her goodbyes to the blonde, shooting her a look over Jackson’s shoulder.

I’m fine. Don’t worry. I agreed to this.


	3. The Beginning

“Separate rooms?”

April folds both arms over her chest as she questions the move, watching as some polished man in a dark blue uniform carries a box full of her belongings to an almost empty bedroom.

It’s quaint, but still bigger than her now former living and kitchen spaces combined.

The walls are a faded white colour, leaning towards a pale tone of grey, but Amelia has informed her that she can have them painted if she wants to.

She wants to redecorate the room already, feeling like a teenager moving into her brand new apartment for the very first time. Cold colours have never made her comfortable, have never made her feel at ease.

But she refuses to hire someone to paint it. Why pay someone else to do something you could just do yourself for free?

“Yes.” The brunette nods, slaps a cushion she’d picked up from inside one of the boxes against her chest and smiles gently, “Nobody is going to force you into his bed, April. We aren’t those kinds of people.” Amelia reassures her, plucks on the corner of the knitted pillow, “But, you know, I would advise you to.” She whispers softly and April frowns.

“Advise me to what?”

“Get in bed with him.” Her eyes widen as she talks as though it was obvious, “It’ll be worth it.”

Does she-? April holds herself back from asking how she could possibly know about that. Had she slept with him? Were they once a thing? Were they still a thing, maybe?

Too many questions for only the second day.

This was such an insane twenty four hours, though, the now bride-to-be tells herself, feeling her shoulders drop as she looks around her new residence.

It’s minimalistic, and neat, and it’s more of a living space than it is a home.

“Did you knit this, by the way? It feels like it’s handcrafted?” Amelia continues to fidget with the cushion cover casually as she glances up at the redhead, raises a brow curiously.

“I did, yeah.” April confirms, slipping her arms out of their fold and licking her lips. Was she not allowed to knit? Did that make her look like some crazy old cat lady?

Amelia beams then, “You knitted it?”

“I crochet'ed it.”

“Housewives are going to love you!” She drops the pillow then, flinging it back down on top of the opened box full of household items.

She steps forward, places both hands around April’s upper arms before talking, “So, listen, we’re gonna have to get you ready soon to head to the courthouse. But, you know, don’t be worried. It’s all arranged. All you’ve got to do is show up and smile and beam and be all bride-like. And get married.” She adds as an afterthought, senses the redhead’s slight hesitation. “If you want out, tell me now before it’s too late, April.”

“I’m alright. I’m…happy, even?”

Is that terrible of her? To be happy she’d marrying some semi-successful guy and getting everything she’s ever wanted without having to bat so much as an eyelid? Isn’t that selfish of her?

She kind of hates herself for enjoying this; there are people who could do with a hell of a lot better than she actually needed, and yet she gets a lifestyle upgrade because she’s, what, pristine? Untouched? Wholesome? That’s so messed up.

“That’s great then! Gosh, I thought I was going to have to talk you into it but you…you seem sure? You’re certain this is what you want, right?”

“I’m sure.”

“Wonderful.” Amelia marvels, eyes her as though she was some kind of magical creature, a miraculous specimen, “Ah, okay, this is all going according to plan.”

Does she sound like a Disney villain? Yes. Definitely.

“We’re going to head down to the salon and you’re going to get all dressed and freshened up, okay? Meanwhile, these guys are gonna finish unpacking your stuff and by the time you get back later, you’ll have everything already in its place!”

“Is it-” April pauses, knits both brows slightly when she notices one of the uniformed men place an ornament somewhere on a shelf she would never place it herself. “Is it alright if I do it myself? The unpacking and stuff? I mean, I’ll be coming back here after the, uh, wedding anyway, so…”

 

The brunette shakes her head, lets her hands drop from the petite woman’s arms and smiles politely. “That’s fine.”

She agrees with the decision, understanding that April still wants to maintain a little control over her new life.

“We were going to do a little press interview after it was over with, you know, alert the media that their prime steak has some pretty decent french fries by his side now, but Jackson thought it’d be a bad idea. He wants to hold off until you’re settled.” She explains, earning a small blush and smile from the redhead in return.

April nods slowly, chewing the inside of her cheek as she thinks of something.

“I know I said something last night about fries but I just- Did he mention my-”

“That you referred to yourself as mayonnaise?” Amelia grins, tilts her head to one side and pushes her brown curls behind her ear, “He tells me everything. Of course I know about the mayonnaise nicknaming.”

“I probably sounded like such an idiot, didn’t I? Did he find it funny? He looked like he did.” She breaks off, glances down at the hardwood floors, in deep thought, “I mean, he went along with it so-”

“April?” The slightly older woman catches her attention again, snapping her fingers sharply to get her focus, “He found it charming. He finds you charming.”

“That’s good.” The redhead breathes out, feeling like a weight has been lifted off of her shoulders.

“Also, you know what?”

She’s almost a little bit too frightened to ask. “What?”

“I personally think he’s the mayonnaise.”

“And I’m the fries?”

“You’re a lucky find, April. And…good fries are hard to come by, these days.” She smirks, teases her softly and watches as her new project giggles. “You ready to go reinvent yourself?”

“Absolutely.”

\- - - -

Within the span of exactly three hours and twenty six minutes, she is no longer April Kepner, farm girl with no social life and too many notebooks than should be deemed necessary.

She is now April Avery, wife of a somewhat important political figure of this windy State, and role model to middle class housewives everywhere.

She can use her past, and upbringing in a small midwestern town to her, their, advantage, apparently.

Saying she comes from a farm in the little known town of Moline, Ohio will supposedly do winders to her image, which will then turn Jackson into an awe-inspiring hunk of a man who puts love above class.

Just wait until the press get ahold of ‘how they met’. She almost wants to laugh at the lie, and if it wasn’t cute and what she could have written better herself than she would.

It was during one of the campaign parties, after a successful evening. The champagne was flowing, she was laughing, and suddenly she caught his eyes. And the rest was history.

April just hopes she won’t have to explain any of this to her now ex-coworkers.

“You look amazing.”

He only says it when it’s over, when they’re now officially married and she has some probably-ridiculously-shamefully expensive ring on her finger. It shines, and she beams and he smiles, keeps an arm around her waist as they leave the courthouse.

Well, that was quick.

“Thank you.”

April bites her bottom lip, flicks her gaze down toward her hand, keeps a steady focus on the oversized engagement ring oh her finger. Damn designers and their jewellery.

She’d been left in Amelia’s hand for the two and a half hours leading up to the “wedding”. Her hair had been cut so it was just below shoulder length, a couple of golden but discreet blonde highlights had been added to liven up her natural-but-coloured red shade. She’d been makeup’d, and dressed in another tight dress that she felt abnormal in.

It supposedly held in her already small waist, and it cut off just below the knees, and the mid-length sleeves and small décolté were tasteful and “on point”, so the stylist had told her.

And she’d been informed that once she’d arrive back at the apartment her new wardrobe would be filled entirely of this kind of thing. Tight dresses and heels and maybe tights and flats and blazers and cardigans, but casual clothes would be kept in a small section of the wardrobe. But it’d be rare that she could wear them out and about.

April had been a little anxious when she’d heard the news, that her sense of style had been that of a librarian and not of a sexy but reserved lady. The whole thing made her cringe almost.

She wasn’t this person. She didn’t wear fancy dresses all of the time, and the only occasion she’d ever wear heels to was a party or some kind of event.

She liked flats, but her favourite black ballerina pumps apparently now stuffed in a trash can somewhere. Her grey jacket had been reportedly hung up in the back of her closet, to only ever emerge when she headed back down to Ohio.

She feels almost insulted by it all, truthfully, but she signed up for this. She knew what she was getting into.

They’re stopped at the end of the town’s main hall when she slips out of his grasp, stares up at her husband with calm eyes.

“What do we, uh- What do I- What do I do now?”

She’s so damn clueless about it all that it’s almost laughable, she thinks to herself, feels her cheeks redden slightly when he smirks, leans down and surprisingly kisses her forehead.

He lingers, keeps a hand cupping the side of her face as he breathes out, into her, voice all hushed and low and turning her on. Wait… what?

“I have work to do but you can go home, if you want. If you want to order anything or…something then just give them my name, okay?” Jackson suggests, takes a quick peek down at her with those green eyes she’s already becoming familiar with. “I’m not sure you being in the office would be a good idea right now, if I’m honest. Didn’t Amelia say you wanted to unpack or something?”

He’s smiling and she does it back, takes a deep breath when he moves away from her, hands still clasping her jaw softly though.

“I did. I do.” She nods, licks her lips and diverts her gaze towards the main doors. “I should probably get going then.”

“I can have Mark drive you if you want?” Ah, yes, Mark. The kind of rude grey-haired man from yesterday.

“I’ll be fine.

“You don’t have a car with you.”

“I’ll call a cab.”

He chuckles, reaches into his pocket for a second, “You’re not calling a cab. That’s not- Here.” He grabs her hand gently, drops a small clump of keys down into her palm, “Take mine. You know which one it is?”

“Probably the super duper shiny one parked out front?”

“Yeah. D'you remember the address?”

“Do you have a GPS?”

“Yeah?”

“And have you entered your address into the GPS before?”

“I have.”

“Then I think I’ll be fine.” She grins, pushes her hair behind her ears before twirling the keys around swiftly, “I’ll, uh, see you later then?” She frowns for a microsecond, lifts a brow with uncertainty.

“Yes.” Jackson confirms, slipping both hands into his trouser pockets when she heads out the door. “See you tonight.”

“Yep.”

Wasn’t it now technically their wedding night?

Oh.

Damn it.

\- - - -

“Hi. I’m looking for some paint.”

April smiles sweetly as she slides both hands across the countertop of the hardware store, shuffling back and forth uncomfortably in her heels.

A little pitstop on the way back to her new home wouldn’t hurt, would it?

“I can help you with that, yeah.” The teenage boy behind the counter pops his gum, flicks shut his comic book and looks up at her with wide eyes. He stares her up and down for a second, raising a brow inquisitively. “M'am, are you sure you’re in the right store?”

He almost laughs at her attire, obviously confused why someone who looks fresh out of a snazzy women’s clothing catalogue would be buying paint.

The redhead pulls a face, “Don’t call me m'am. That’s mean, and rude, and just-” She stops squints both eyes at the boy dangerously. “I need some paint.”

“Hang on.” He holds up a finger then, shuffles beneath the counter desk for a moment, searching for a booklet of some kind. The young blonde pulls out a stack of colour palettes attached on some sort of keyring.

He extends it out to April with a polite smile, almost a little too eagerly.

She sharply pulls the selection from his grasp, watches as he pops another blow of his bubblegum.

“Do you have all of these in store?”

“Mostly.”

“What about this one?” She stops rummaging through the pile and plucks the small cardboard with an array of red-pink tones between her fingers.

“Pink?” He nods, shrugs casually. “Yeah. We got those.”

“Great. This one?” She taps her index finger against a colour called Puce, a darkened shade of red with a slight maroon feel to it.

The boy stands up from his stool then, heads out from behind the desk and leads her down the narrow path of the store, stopping in front of the shelving stacks full of pain tins.

“Puce?”

“Puce.” She pronounces properly, closing the palettes back up as he pulls a large tin of the paint down from the second shelf, plonking it down on the concrete floor heavily.

“Puce.” He nods triumphantly, “That all?”

“Yeah.” The walls are already a light grey shade, so she only wants to paint a feature wall or two, just to bring a little warmth and comfort to her new room.

“You got a wallet under that dress, or what?” He eyes her carefully, carries the tin over to the till after picking up a roller brush and tray from the opposing shelf and he plops the, down before heading back around the desk, ringing up the bill.

April fakes a smile, stares down at her dress. She’s already stuffed the car keys down her cleavage. “You can just…charge it to my husband?” It feels weird to say it. The word husband alone is enough to boggle her mind right now, but using his money feels wrong somehow. Then again, it’s not like she has any other option.

“Okay. Name?”

“Jackson Avery.” She clears her throat, avoids his stare when the boy grimaces, leans back in his seat and stops typing.

“No shit.”

“Yes. So…” She waves a hand around, encourages him to finish checking the items out.

“Okay.”

“Done?”

“Yeah.” He smirks, “Would you like a hand carrying it to your car, Mrs Avery?”

She would cringe if it wasn’t for the saving face that she needs to do.

“No, thank you.” She holds up both hands and securely wraps the large tin in her arms, managing to lift it off the counter with slight difficulty. She’s a lot stronger than she looks.

“Damn.”

\- - - -

She has the unopened boxes still stashed away in the corner of the room as she paints.

She’d found an old sheet to lay out on the floor to avoid any paint spatters as she decorates, stretches up on tiptoes to reach the near top of the walls with her roller brush.

April takes a step back after a breath, dropping the roller back into the tray and moving her pain-spattered hands to her jean-clad hips.

She’d found a pair of loose fitting casual jeans hung up in the closet along with a simple but cropped white t-shirt, which hung casually from her right shoulder as she painted.

She was bare foot, her hair pulled into a messy side-ponytail.

The colour looked good, better than she actually thought it would. It was warming and matched well with the grey and the furniture already in the room.

Her accessories were mismatched anyway so that wouldn’t matter much, she thinks. Who would care?

“You want any help?”

She gasps when she hears a voice come from the doorway to the room, and she spins around to see Jackson stood leaning against the doorframe, navy tie loosened and sleeves rolled up on his white shirt.

He smiles, stands all handsome and smugly, watching her. He’d been there for a couple of minutes, watching her lean up and struggle and succeed. She was cute when she was hard at work.

“I think I’m finished.” She dishes proudly, nods mostly to herself when he steps into the room, though he takes a quick second to kick off his shoes and toss them back into the hallway before walking onto her sheet-turned-canvas.

“Looks good.” The man shares his opinion, squinting an eye as he takes in his, her, surroundings. “You have a lot of stuff, don’t you?” He notices the boxes piled away in the corner, a small smirk toying on his lips when she stutters uncomfortably.

“I have a kind of- I- I keep stuff. You know, like, keepsakes?”

“If they’re keepsakes then that’s probably why you keep them.” He explains, dishing the obvious. Jackson laughs gently at her expression.

The redhead stands still for a moment, unmoving and focusing on her boxes. “I kind of hoard weird possessions?” She attempts.

“You’re a hoarder?” His green eyes widen and he shakes his head once, but keeps that everlasting smirk on his face. “Oh, no.”

“Not a hoarder. Just- I write a lot, in my diaries, and I keep them. I’ve kept them all since I was eleven.”

“How many do you have exactly?” He questions her, turning his body to face her directly and pushing his sleeves even further up his strong forearms.

April shrugs slowly, briefly drops her gaze to his lips when he licks them, “Probably about 145…or something close to that.” She mumbles, thinking he won’t hear the number.

“You have 145 diaries?!”

“I had a lot to write about!”

“What did you write about?” His voice softens and he winks without actually winking but she can feel it in his expression. “Your boyfriends? Your dogs? Family? What kind of ice cream you liked that day?” He jokes, leaning loser into her side and nudging her side.

She rolls her eyes, pushes back and practically swats his chest with the back of her hand when she throws a hand out to elaborate. “About…stuff.”

“Well, I’m going to need to read these diaries, Miss Kepner.” Jackson teases, glancing down at her from the corner of his eyes.

She swallows a shaky breath, feels her guard lower and her shoulders drop at his ease to be around, “Didn’t you hear? I’m an Avery now.” She whispers, tilting her head to lean against his arm, earning a light chuckle in response.

It’s odd, because she’s only known him for a little over a day. But they’re somehow already married and living together, and- Jesus!

“It’s my wedding night.” She breathes out quietly, the dreamt memory of what she’d always imagined for that night coming back to mind. Well, no, that wasn’t happening.

“It is.” He nods, obviously having heard her mumble, “Did you have plans?” He smirks, looks down at her again.

“I wish! I was going to order take-out.” She confesses with a small dart of her tongue to her lips to soften them up, “You want in?”

“On disgustingly amazing food being delivered to the house without us having to move? Of course I’m in.” Jackson nods, brows creased in agreement, “No better way to spend your wedding night.” He voices low, teeth grazing his bottom lip as his smirk turns to a faint laugh at her crimson cheeks.

She just nods once, “I can’t imagine doing anything else.” She tries, “Is this what being married feels like? Takeout and laziness?”

“I think it’s a little more complicated than that.” He furrows his brows, a few frown lines appearing and she licks her lips when he faces her, takes a step closer. He speaks softly, husky and hushed and she almost wishes her special night was going differently than this, “Marriage requires a little more chemistry.”

“How much more?”

April holds her breath when she feels his hand reach for her waist and before she can breathe out, he’s pulling against him, body crashing into his front and her hands flying to his chest. She slides her palms down his torso, locks her eyes on his.

“Just a little bit.”

“This much?” She leans her face up, closer to his, feels his breath along her nose as she moves, shuffles onto her tiptoes, waiting for him to move.

Their “marriage” ceremony only required the shortest of kisses, a quick peck and it was all enough.

“No?” She grins at his pause, when he doesn’t reply and doesn’t move, only lets her continue, “How about now?” She pushes into him, chest against his and hands sliding up his body and around his neck, slipping down the collar of his shirt.

“Give me a little bit more.” He speaks softly, piercing gaze burning holes through her soul as she swallows a breath.

April sighs deeply when she feels his other hand reach for her backside, gripping her firmly in his palm as the hand on her waist travels lower, down to her hip and somehow she’s being pulled up, legs around his waist and hands clasping around his neck.

Who the hell lifts someone up with one arm? Damn it.

“Is this enough?”

“No.”

“You mean married couples do more than this?” She asks him mutely, lashes fluttering when he spins them around and walks over to the doorway, slamming her back into the dry wall beside the door. She gasps, steadies her grip on his shoulders when he hikes her up, hands on her ass.

“A lot more.” He confirms, nods once, twice, then leans down and finally kisses her.

His lips are rough but kind, keeping a firm hold over her mouth but letting her lead the kiss.

He slips his tongue past her teeth when she moans into him, tilts her head back and links her ankles together behind his back, pulling harshly on his shoulders, as though it’d bring him, if at all possible, closer.

The redhead feels him begin to pull away after a moment, when his hands are cupping her face and she’s being kept up purely by her legs and the force his body is pressing into hers.

She isn’t used to this, isn’t used to being made out with and kissed hungrily and talked to as such.

“Show me how much.”

“No.” He denies her, slowly but surely moves one hand behind him to unlink her leg, pull her down from around him.

April drops on both feet, swallows a sharp breath and pushes fallen strands of hair behind her ears with a bite of her bottom lip. She mildly blushes when he places a finger beneath her chin, tilts her head back to look up at him.

“Not yet.”

Was that a promise?

“I’m gonna go order that takeout now. Chinese good for you?”

“Sure.”

She just finds herself nodding, her mind and body and soul half withdrawn from life when he lets her slip away and he moves out of her sight, out of the room.

What the hell?


	4. The Development

“Your sisters will be coming into town on Wednesday.” Amelia tells her nonchalantly, eyes focused on her iPhone and walking three steps ahead of her.

April attempts to run forward in her heels to catch up with the brunette, perring around into her face. “My sisters? Here?!”

The older women shuts off her phone and raises a brow in curiosity at the redhead’s uneasy expression.

“Yes. Why?” She drags out the question, squinting an eye in her direction sharply.

“Isn’t that a little bit soon? I mean I haven’t even practiced what I’m supposed to tell people yet?”

“We’ve got it covered, April. You don’t need to worry.” Amelia rests a hand on the younger woman’s arm reassuringly. “We’ll rehearse it all and by the time they get here, the whole city will already believe it so three regular midwestern folk won’t doubt it for a second.”

April fakes a smile, ignores the partial insult. “Okay.” She nods, tries for a relieved sigh, “Where is Jackson, by the way? I thought he was supposed to be here.”

“He’s five minutes away. In traff-” She holds a finger out then, pointing towards the entrance door, “Ah, Avery!”

“Hey.” The green eyed man pulls the neatly folded out from under his arms and shrugs it on casually, smiling in April’s direction. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good. I’ve just never been photographed before.” She admits and he grins knowingly, moving closer to her and grabbing her hand.

He checks his watch briefly before threading his fingers through her own and getting her to follow his lead. “It’s a simple interview. She’s just going to ask you a few questions. You know, where you’re from, how we met, what your thoughts are on such a certain topic.” He licks his top lip with a slight shrug, “You’ll do great. Just smile and look pretty.”

“Great.” April mumbles, feeling her hand slip out of his grasp when a woman holds her shoulders and urges her down into one of two seats on a comfortable looking sofa. It’s small and padded and oh-so-very-fancy.

She applies a basic lipstick over the redhead’s lips, brushes a little rose blusher of her cheeks, perfects the way her hair red locks hang and frame her face, then she curls April’s lips into a forced smile before stepping away from the focus. “On three.”

The blonde woman who goes by the last name of Stevens starts talking then, legs crossed like a true lady and eyes shiny and wide and inviting.

April feels like curling up into a ball as she sits across from the woman. She’s a fraud. She’s not supposed to be wearing these clothes and faking romance and earning a heck of a living through a well fabricated lie.

The journalist, Izzie Stevens, has been talking to Jackson

“Now, you, April. You’ve had quite an interesting week. Tell us about you guys, about how you met.”

They’re rehearsed this. They’ve practiced.

“I was working in his office, actually. On the new campaign, I was-” She pauses to smile and push her hair behind her ears, not too fancily, not too carelessly. They rehearsed this. “I think I was supposed to photocopy some files from Mark, Mark Sloan, and I had only been there for about a week or so and I hadn’t needed to copy anything yet, you know? And I didn’t want to ask anybody because they were all so hard at work for this guy-”

April taps a hand against Jackson’s leg, fingertips resting on his knee, beaming smile on her face.

“And I just kind of walked around and he- Well, I bumped into him, really. He was kind enough to help me to the copy room and then he just wouldn’t leave.” She teases, glancing over at Jackson from the corner of her eye.

“So can we say this was love at first sight?”

“Maybe love after five minutes.” April jokes smoothly, feeling her husband nudge her side softly. “He took a little warming up to.” She nods her head with a grin and feels his hands reach across her lap to grasp her hand, wrapping his fingers through her own.

Izzie takes a few notes before she continues, “And the rest is history?”

“The rest speaks for itself.” Jackson pipes in, breaking April’s stride of having to answer all questions.

“Alright, so tell me, why did it take so long for this news to get out? I mean, Jackson, I’m sure Webber would have loved to leak this info if he could? Why were you hiding her?”

His green eyes lighten up then and April isn’t sure if he’s just great of an actor or if he’s unaware of the change. “I’m a private person and, you know me, I don’t like broadcasting my relations to the world because things could go wrong and stuff happens and I didn’t wanna risk losing her.”

The blonde woman seems to buy it, clearing her throat quietly, “And now you’re married. But we didn’t get a wedding for you guys. Tell me, April, is something in the works?”

“You know, I’m from the midwest and we love quiet weddings.” She brings out the big guns straight away, avoiding another question by answering two in one. “Small gatherings and whatnot, so we kept it quiet. But we’ve been thinking about it, haven’t we?”

She traces her thumb over Jackson’s knuckles, faces him with a gleeful smile. He copies her action and then they both turn back towards the journalist.

“It’s in the works, yes.” Jackson confirms, keeping his lips turned upwards and eyes convincing all the way through.

“And I need to ask… Any plans for kids? I mean, I know it’s still early but you’re both two very good looking people so I’m assuming your babies would be pretty handsome too…”

“We definitely want kids. When? I’m not so sure.” April shakes her head, licks her lips at the thought. Damn it. That’ll never happen. “I mean have you seen him?”

“Off the record, how is the sex? Just so I can leak it to the press?” Izzie grins like a Cheshire cat.

“I don’t-” The younger woman holds back a breath, fakes a giggle instead, “I’m not sure I should say.” She clears her throat and feels Jackson’s eyes on her from the corner of her sight.

“Okay, so, moving along. Feminism? Necessary or a waste of time?”

“Needed.” April frowns gently, “I think we need strong women, and they’re paving the way right now. Women everywhere are pioneering for right and equality and I think it’s amazing. I feel like if you’re a woman in a society like ours, you get pushed aside in favour of men and I think it’s completely ridiculous. We need equal pay because we hard, if not twice as much? We’re usually the ones raising the children, and we might even be doing that along so I think women, and specifically women in same status jobs as men deserve equality. There is a glass ceiling and it’s, without question, breakable. I think it’s already shattered but we’re just waiting for the right time to pick up the pieces and toss them away.”

She closes the tablet in her lap and looks back and forth between the two of them carefully. “I’ve gotta say it. I think you’re just perfect.”

“Thank you?”

“Yes. You’re pretty, kind of timid but also watchable. I hear you knit, too?”

Jackson peers over at Amelia across the room, holding a folder up to her chest with a guilty smirk on her face and a ‘thumbs up’ at them.

April can’t find it in her to correct the woman so she just nods, agrees a d betters her image a little bit more. “I love it. It’s a hobby of mine.”

“Great!”

“Done?”

“All finished.”

Thank God.

\- - - -

“You did good today.”

April smiles almost bashfully at his compliment, “Thank you.” She twirls her fork around between her fingers for a moment, watching it move with grave before she stabs another piece of her salad.

“The, uh, pictures and article should be printed in tomorrow’s Guardian.” Jackson informs her, pouring two mugs of coffee.

Nodding her head, his wife places her fork down to accept the cup of coffee being handed to her. She thanks him again, clasps the green mug between both hands warmly.

“I hope I looked alright.”

“You looked great.”

She takes a quick sip of her coffee with a smile before placing it back down. But the rim rests on the edge of her fork and it knocks her mug off balance, dropping it on its side and spilling the liquid down her front.

“Oh, crap!” April shrieks as she feels the slight sting of the warm coffee running down her stomach, her cream blouse soaking wet against her skin.

She tosses the napkin in her hand aside, springing up from her stool quickly before heading to the bathroom.

“I’ll clean that up in a second!” The redhead calls out behind her as she slips into the washroom, stopping in front of the sink and staring down at her stained top in the mirror’s reflection. “Damn it!”

She picks up a hand towel from the stack on the edge of the counter, and she unfolds it and rolls it up into a scrunched up ball before turning on the tap, rinsing it under the stream of water.

Leaving the tap running, she dabs the soaked towel against her blouse, hoping it will dry up the stain but knowing that it won’t.

“Are you alright?”

She briefly turns her head to see Jackson stood in the doorway, holding a fresh green top in his hand, seemingly selected from her wardrobe.

April nods, gets back to uselessly scrubbing at her top as she replies with a short sigh, “I’m fine, Jackson. I’m just a klutz.” She reasons, frown to her face and lips chewed.

“You’re not a klutz.” He rolls his green eyes, stepping closer to stand behind her at the counter. “Just relax.” He places the green blouse on the side, pries the scuffed towel from her anxious fist slowly.

She watches him move about, lets him handle her and throw the towel into the hamper across the bathroom.

“Sorry. I’m just-” She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, dropping her head as she lets her palms slide along the curve of the edged countertop. “I’m nervous.”

“You don’t have to be, okay?” He smiles at her, though she fails to see it because she’s too busy wallowing in her own self-pity to notice.

April remains still as he seems to comfort her, as he takes care of the situation by smoothing his hands along her sides and across her stomach.

She feels his fingers toy with the lowest button of her blouse and she gulps, lifts her head and gaze to meet his in their reflection. “What are you doing?”

“You need to get ready.” He knits both brows, pauses his gentle grasp on her shirt.

“Oh.” She just nods, fails to move even though she knows she should take over, knows she shouldn’t let him undress her, even like this.

April tries to slow her breathing patterns when he continues to unbutton her shirt, fingers creeping up her chest as he reaches the top button, sliding it through the final hoop slowly.

“Can you get dressed or do you need me to do that for you, as well?”

She can’t tell if it’s a joke or if he’s being serious because his face is expressionless, blank, and his eyes are back to that intense shade of emerald green. Damn it.

“I can do that.” She confirms, though her eyes flicker down as he still continues, pulls the blouse down her arms and away from her body slowly.

And then he tosses that into the hamper, too, and she’s left in her bra and skirt and her anxiety has been traded in for embarrassment.

“Five minutes.”

For someone who’d never been this naked, this revealed in front of anyone other than her mother or her sisters or Lexie or her gynaecologist, she wasn’t as uncomfortable as she thought she might be.

“Can I take ten?” She mumbles, teeth digging into her bottom lip as her arms fold over her chest.

Jackson lifts one brow carefully, eyes her up and down so fast that she barely registers him doing it. “Seven.”

“Eight.”

“Seven, or I’ll make sure you leave the house like that.”

He points a finger out at her attire and she holds back a 'huh’, a puff of air, a disbelieving snort.

“That wouldn’t be very good for your image now, would it?” She grins smugly, whips her head back around to look herself over in the mirror. She can be sharp when she wants to be. “You wife leaving the house without a shirt on… I’m sure Webber would love that.”

The man takes a step closer when she confidently raises a hand to her hair, pushing a strand behind her ear and licking her lips.

He stops beside her, keeps one hand in his pocket as the other traces along the bathroom countertop. “What she likes is none of my business.”

“But what the greedy men of Seattle like is a man keeping a tight leach on his wife, right?”

She squints, hisses softly, almost a little too gently for the words she’s saying.

“I’m sure if I left the house right now, like this, with no shirt on, your votes would just-” She whistles quietly and sticks her right hand out, tipping it back on the angle and aiming it upwards, gliding in direction of the ceiling. “Skyrocket.”

“Possibly.” He mumbles through gritted teeth, gripping the ledge of the sink in his palm, fingers wrapping around the marble bowl. “Tell me, would you even be willing to do that?”

“That’s what you married me for.”

He nods once, twice then, drops his gaze and ducks his head as he shifts closer, coming into her side smoothly, “I married you to win over the women of this city, not the men. I have that handled. And I don’t need you flaunting around with no clothes on to do it. It’s called politics, April. Not a cry for help.”

“So me being comfortable enough to do what you’re so sure I can’t is a cry for help? I don’t need a shoulder to cry on, Jackson.”

“No, but you need me.”

“Correction. You need me.”

He leans in, raising his left hand to the low of her back and tracing it up her bare skin slowly until his fingertips graze the clasp of her bra. She shivers, jumps at the surprise, and he smirks in admiration.

April remains still for a moment, letting him wrap her hair in his hand and pull it to one side, leaving the left side of her neck completely accessible. But he’s on her right, almost shifted to her middle.

She swallows a shaky breath, feels her knees buckle when he finds her bra again, flicking open the clasp before she can even blink twice. She feels a cold breeze run down her spin at the sensation, feeling his hand against her warm flesh.

Jackson moves behind her then, pulling aside the straps of her bra and dragging it down her shoulders, allowing her to drop it all the way off. She does, keeps her gaze focused on the floor, on her shoes, on the hair fallen over the top of her head when he grips her sides and tilts her forward.

Her arms push forward, elbows sliding along marble as he, as her new husband of three days, as the man she knows barely anything about, bends her over the edge of the counter, one hand wrapped tightly around her pulled hair and the other on the swell of her porcelain back, tanned fingertips creeping lower towards the top of her skirt.

April doesn’t question him at all, feeling a little bit too at ease in his arms. It’s strange for her though, being so close, being intimate with anyone, much less someone she’s basically just met.

Maybe this is a sign though, that she needs to open up and let someone in? Maybe she needs to let her walls down and finally give up on her hopes of finding some Prince Charming to come sweep her off her feet?

It’s not like he’s terrible. He’s kind, and decent and he only seems to change demeanour when she’s rattling his cage, intentionally winding him up.

Her shoulders fold when his hand on her back lowers to her backside, gripping her cheek over the material of her skirt.

“Tell me to stop.”

She frowns at his demand, turning her neck to face him indirectly, instead only noticing both of his hands move down her legs before tracing back up her thigh, pulling on the hem of her lace skirt.

“Why should I?”

“Because you’re going to want me to.”

“No.” She shakes her head momentarily before dropping it back down, tongue darting out to moisten her lips when he drags the tight skirt over her hips and gathers it around her waist.

“Tell me to stop.”

He’s not an idiot. He knows that she can’t possibly be comfortable right now.

She blushes when he so much as smirks at her. She shivers almost every time he brushes past her. She giggles at his unfunny jokes.

She’s infatuated with him, already. And she’s beautiful, and smart, and witty. But she needs to grow a thicker backbone if she ever wants to survive in this life.

She can’t challenge him whenever she feels like it and then succumb, go along with everything he says. She can’t be submissive. She needs to be an equal.

It’s a lesson.

“Tell me to stop.” He repeats quietly, through a whispered breath and closed eyes, right hand lingering above her backside as his left grips her waist.

April only shakes her head, determined to see what he’s so concerned about, though she’s pretty certain she has a good idea. She’s just not sure if he’ll go through with it, or if she could handle it.

As long as he doesn’t make this a recurring thing, she’ll be fine, she thinks. But her eyes clamp shut and her lips part and she lets out a small whimper when he hands smacks down against her butt cheek, palm to skin and surely leaving a mark.

Okay. That wasn’t so bad.

“Tell me to stop.” Learn from this. Stop me. Don’t let me do it.

“What if I don’t want you to?” She hitches a brow when she glances up, face in the mirror and catching his gaze. Breathing in a nervous laugh, she licks her lower lip slowly, keeping her hazel focused on his green ones. “Do it again.”

“No.” He doesn’t want to, though she looks like she wants it, asks him like she does.

The redhead grunts, shuffles and wiggles her ass slightly as her head drops again. “Do it again.”

His hand taps against her bottom again before she finishes her request, but his finger cup her cheek this time, and she feels him push himself against her.

“Again.”

She’s not sure why she likes it, why she wants him to continue. Isn’t this horrible, unholy, disgusting? Is she turning into a terrible person for wanting her husband to conflict a little pain on her?

How can she be when she’s the one wanting it? Her ass kind of tingles and she feels a strange yet exciting vibe curse through her body when he does it, obeys yet remains dominant.

“Ask me nicely.”

“I don’t know how.”

She finds her strength to ask for more when he cups her backside in both hands, smoothly gripping her skin and running his thumbs between her cheeks, closer towards her now damp panties.

“Do it again, please?”

She lets out a heavy gasp when he does it again, once, twice. Her back arches forward with each tap, and she can feel a slight burning sensation on her cheek.

“You like that?” One more. Gasp. One more. Moan.

“Uh huh.” She nods, chews at the insides of her cheeks when he continues, leaving a hand print against her ass.

“Tell me you like it.”

“Don’t stop.” One more. Two more.

Jackson lets go of her body then, taking two steps back and watching her come to her senses slowly and pull herself together after noticing him walk away. “Now do you see why I wanted you to stop me?”

“No.” She gulps, drags her skirt back down her skirt and rubs her backside softly, eyes lowered in slight embarrassment.

Why the hell did she just let him do that? Because it was new? Because she wanted to experience something? Because she wanted attention? Because she liked it?

The politician slides his hands back in his pockets after straightening his tie, and he blinks rapidly for a moment, Adam’s apple bobbing as he sighs deeply. “Because you need to learn to say no, April. It’s all very well for you to have an idea about things and for you to question my judgement. That’s perfectly fine. But you can’t be so indecisive.”

He steps closer again, only this time his hands remain in place and she faces him directly, arms folding back over her bra-clad chest. “I’m not indecisive.”

“You are. You say one thing and as soon I fight it, you give up, give in. And you shouldn’t. You need to stand by your voice, April. You wouldn’t let a rapist get away with his crime if the victim shamefully enjoyed the attention it gave her, would you? No. Nobody would. Nobody should. So why should me spanking you be any different?”

He tested her?

“It should be different because-”

“It isn’t. You liked the attention, didn’t you? You didn’t want me to stop but you wanted me to continue because you liked it.” He’s met by silence to the question and he nods to confirm her transparent answer. “You liked the fact that I was looking at you, and touching you, and dominating you, and you regret not enjoying it more.”

How does he do that?

April snorts out a feigned laugh, rolling her eyes and licking her lips as her eyes dart to the ceiling.

“I can teach you, you know.”

“Teach me what?” Her brows knit as she looks over at her, hands behind her, gripping at the edge of the counter.

One step closer, one hand in her hair and she’s putty.

“How to control people the same way I just controlled you.”

“This has Fifty Shades of My Fair Lady written all over it.” She teases to herself, but realises her joke hadn’t been spoken mentally when he smirks, teeth grazing his bottom lip.

“I think we can spare the cable ties, don’t you?”

April just nods with a sheepish smile, leaning up into his body when he cups the side of her face to tilt her head, pressing his mouth against hers passionately, tongue coaxing her lips apart after only a fraction of a second.

“Tell me to stop.” She mumbles teasingly into the kiss, flipping the tables and feeling his lips form a smirk against her own wicked grin.

“No.”


	5. The Clarification

Tuesday night rolls around sooner than she expects, and her anxiety for the following morning are probably through the ceiling.

April had spent her day cooking, perfecting her meal-making skills.

Her mother had always told that when she’d be married, she would need to know how to bake, and use a stove like a second brain, and satisfy her husband’s craving.

Granted, this probably kind of marriage her mother had had in mind for her when she said it, but still. What she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.

And while the young redhead was turning into something of an advocate for women’s right and equality in the city, she still firmly believed that wives need to know cuisine and their way around a kitchen.

But this didn’t mean she wouldn’t still expect her husband to whip her up a bowl of spaghetti when he needed to. It’s a two-way street.

“You like nervous again.”

“Well, I am. That’s probably why I look it.”

April sighs with a loud inhale-exhale of breath. She stops stirring the concoction in front of her and grabs the wooden spoon handle in her fist, glancing up at the man with tired eyes.

“I haven’t seen my sisters in like two years. We kind of had a falling out.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jackson slips his suit jacket from his shoulders and neatly folds it over before placing it over the back of one of the bar stools at the island in the middle of the kitchen. “I would have told Amelia to cancel.”

She shrugs softly, flicks her wrist, stretches out a cramp, before getting back to work, “I didn’t think I could.” April mumbles quietly and his hands clasp in front of him, eyes widening as he leans closer.

“Why?” The man perks a brow, watches her with cautious eyes as she dots around the kitchen, evenly pouring out what looks like cake batter into muffin trays. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, April.” He frowns, green eyes darkening as she dabs a finger into the mixture bringing it up to her lips and licking it off as she turns to face him. “You can tell me anything. Okay?”

“Because you’re my husband now?” She keeps her finger pressed against her bottom lip, a small grin on her face as she shifts from one foot to the other, keeps her gaze focused on his. “This is still weird, you know.”

She spins back around to place the filled muffin tray in the heated oven when he rounds the island, coming over to her side of the kitchen.

“I know.” He clears his throat, watches as she bends, snaps back up and wipes her hands down her apron. “Where did you find that thing?”

“I bought it.” She tilts her head to the side and rests her hands on her hips. Small smile on her lips, she frowns, “Well, you did. But you told me to buy whatever I needed and if I’m…going to be your wife, then…I need an apron.”

“That’s very…suburban housewife of you?” Jackson smirks, copying her move and dropping his hands to his hips, fingers digging into his belt.

April shrugs again, “I can be many things.”

It’s strange to think that she still barely knows him and yet she acts like she’s known him for years, like he’s been her other half for months. They’re at ease, and it makes their situation even more confusing to her.

“You just don’t know me yet.”

“Well, I would like to get the chance to.” He nods as he speaks, walking closer and moving his hand past her waist to cage her in against the kitchen counter.

She leans her head back slightly and chews at the tip of her tongue when he takes her in, casting his eyes up and down her body.

“Why don’t you teach me something about politics first and then I’ll let you in on a little secret?”

“Fair trade.” He looks back up at her face then, and he shifts closer, making her straighten her back and tilt her neck to drop under his gaze. “What do you want to know?”

She thinks about her question for a moment before deciding that the way he was eyeing her a second ago was killing her curiosity. “Why do men have a thing for a woman in an apron?”

“Submission. Sexism.” He swallows, confirms with a fast breath, “The great suburban housewife myth. We, the men, work. We make the money. We drink at noon. We come home late. You feed the kids and you clean the house and, by the time we get home, you’ve cooked us dinner. You smile, take our coats, look all nice and pretty in that apron. You drink wine while we eat because you’ve already had yours, you ate when the kids did, but we have dessert together.”

April feels her throat dry as he talks, and she pulls a fistful of hair to one side of her neck to distract her flushing chest. This is rude and while he doesn’t mean it, only explaining what she asked, she finds it hot. Which is odd. And wrong.

She watches through fluttering lashes as he towers above her, back erupting in a flurry of delightful shivers when he moves his right hand to her waist.

“What do we have for dessert?”

“Each other.” His eyes darken to a dangerous emerald green again and she holds back a gasp at his face, smirk and unmoving gaze and the whole luxe. Jackson licks his lips tightly, shifts his left to her hip. “You drink a little red wine and then clear the table while I have my scotch. And while you’re washing the dishes, I come up behind you.”

“You do?” She feels her lips still, tongue pressed between her teeth, and her nostrils flare as he nods, and she stares up at him as though she’s lost in a trance.

“And you pause, stand up straight. And when you go to turn around, I stop you, hold you in place. I run my hands down your waist.”

April feels her elbows fold as she leans back, lower body pressing up into him as he continues.

“Then I slide my arms around your waist and pull that apron from your body. You moan, unable to stop yourself, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from screaming when my hand slips below your panties.” He smirks, pressing his forehead to hers and burning her mouth with a trace of his breath.

“Then what?” She whispers her need to know more, feeling her knees begin to quiver when he slips his hands from her waist to her backside, grasping the material of her dress in his palm.

Jackson keeps his eyes focused solely on hers, blinking only once or twice to drop his gaze onto her pink lips.

“I carry you to bed. And we get undressed. And you lie naked on your back.”

“Sounds nice.” She forces the words, voice groggy at the thought and her face a blushing pink shade of desire.

“You spread your legs when I tell you to, and you’re dripping wet.”

She’s not sure what possesses her to want him to continue, to finish his very vivid description. But it’s naughty, and she likes it, and his voice is doing very bad things to her insides.

“And then?” April urges him to go on, licking her lips and smoothing her hands up his shirt-clad chest to his neck. She feels her legs unconsciously part against her will, though she guesses her body is speaking for her at this point.

Her mind would surely tell her that this was wrong, sinful of her. She doesn’t know him, logically, but legally this man is her husband because she was naive enough to marry him after five minutes.

“I eat my dessert.”

Her hazel eyes drift shut when he lowers his face to her neck, running his lips down to her collarbone, lightly peppering butterfly kisses against her pale skin. Jackson pushes the strap of her dress away and his hands grip the edge of her apron, tugging on the ties loosely.

“Your pussy is soaked by the time I’m finished. And you moan, bite your tongue, scar the back of my head with your nails because you don’t want me to stop.”

“I do?” She inhales a sharp breath, brows knitting when he runs a hand up her arm and around her neck, pulling on the halter-neck ties over her floral apron. It drops onto the floor and her lips part voluntarily, waiting for him to kiss her.

“And then I move back up your naked, panting, eager body and kiss you. You like it because you can taste yourself on my tongue and you sob because you want more. But I still need to fuck you.”

“Okay.”

“I think your muffins are done.”

“I-” She darts her tongue out to dampen her lips, completely lost in his everything until she snaps back to her senses. “What?”

“Your muffins.” Jackson points a finger down at the oven, smug grin on his lips as he moves away from her, dusting his hands down his pants and raising both brows suggestively. “Finished?”

“You can’t just stop!” She completely ignores his remark about her baking and instead just frowns across at him.

Her husband shrugs, “I’d continue but you’re a virgin and I don’t wanna spoil it for you. You seem a little…flushed?”

“How did you know that?”

“That you’re flushed?”

“That I’m a virgin.”

“You don’t hide it from me very well.” As though it’s obvious, something everyone can see. “Besides, when I asked about the guys you’d been with, you laughed. That was kind of the dead giveaway.” He chuckles.

April pouts falsely, “I’ve done stuff.”

“What stuff? Tell me. I need to know anyway.”

“Just…stuff?”

“Third base? Oral? Orgasm?” He half smiles in admiration at her innocent face, but then he takes a step closer and touches her shoulders, smoothing his hands up and down her bare hands slowly.

“You might need to educate me on those, too.”

“I think you need to tell me your little secret first? That was our deal for my story.” She rolls her eyes at his request, “Have you ever even touched a penis?”

She pauses, contemplates whether to lie about her revelation.

“No.”

“Never?”

“Over the pants?”

“Doesn’t count.” He sighs, shifts his eyes back and forth between her own. “Has anybody ever made you come?”

“No.”

The old her would tap herself on the hand for talking like this, for marrying someone so inquisitive, so open about sex and discussing stuff a man and woman do in their bedroom.

The new her, however, would probably prefer it if he taped her on the ass.

“Do you want me to?”

“If I did, would you?” He is her husband, after all. It wouldn’t be wrong.

“Tell me a secret first.”

Something light? Easy?

“I had a nose job.”

“Why?”

“It broke?” She responds sarcastically, the answer being an obvious one to her. “Why else would I get a nose job?”

“I don’t know.” He seems to inspect her nose then, raising both hands to cup the sides of her face and turning her face from side to side. “It’s a fine job.” He smirks and she swats his chest, annoyed by his joke.

“It’s not funny.”

He holds in his grin then, clasping his hands together behind his back and taking in her reaction carefully. “I thought you were gonna tell me you kill someone or something. Hell, I kinda thought if anything it was your breasts that were worked on.”

“Why? What’s wrong with my breasts?” She glances down at her chest then, noticing him do the same.

“Nothing, sorry.” He holds up both hands defensively, “They’re quite perfect actually. That’s why I thought-”

“You like my breasts?”

It’s odd flattery, but she goes looking for it and she likes the compliment. No man has ever complimented her on her assets before.

“Do you need me to prove it?”

“Will this be a lesson?”

He doesn’t reply to her question, only backs away and slips his hands into his front pockets. “Take your dress off.”

“What?” Her face blankens and she stills, knuckles turning white from gripping the counter edge.

“Take your clothes off.”

“Here?”

“It’s my- our kitchen, nobody’s going to walk in.” He reasons, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

April stops him by lifting her hands to the top of her dress, popping open the top buttons at the front. She keeps an uneven breathing pattern, feeling his hot eyes burning holes through her skull.

When the buttons separate the flaps of her dress, she lets it hang open over her chest, bra exposed and dress pooled at her sides. “All the way off?”

“On the floor.” The darker skinned man confirms, taking a hesitant step forward as she drops it onto the kitchen ground. “You sure about this?”

“Give me attention.” She gulps, shakes her head with a slight bashful grin. Her head rolls back when he lowers his mouth to her collarbone again, hands gripping her sides and pulling the swell of her body into his, fingertips pressurising into the low of her back.

April caves, aches, inches forward into him, her hands moving around her back to unclasp her bra. She pulls the item away cautiously, avoiding his intense stare as she abandons her white lace bra alongside her dress.

“That feels good.” She breathes out, running her hand over his short curls before gripping the base of his skull in her right hand when he kisses lower, tongue creeping between the valley of her breasts.

Her breathing eradicates when he slides his lips over her left breast, teeth grazing her pebbled flesh and tongue curling patterns around her nipple.

She watches as he begins to pull his tie loose from around his neck, mouth never leaving her desirable cleavage. She takes over, draws the tie from around his shirt and wraps it up in her fist, hands going back to clawing at his shoulders when he sucks, nips at, teases her breasts, breath heavy and toxic against her own oxygen.

“Tell me a secret.” He mumbles against her skin as he kisses all over her chest, shifting onto her right breast and copying the same display, immediately cupping her breasts in his palms and finding her nipple between his teeth, facial scruff tickling her skin and earning a purr in reply.

“I want to be made love to.”

“It smells of burnt muffins in here- Oh, God!”

The shriek across the room pulls April out of her daze, and her eyes flicker open then, instinctively pulling Jackson up flush against her to cover her naked chest.

“Duckie!”

“What-?!” The half naked redhead almost feels her eyes bulge out of her head at the sight of her sisters by the hallway entrance, shocked looks on their faces.

Jackson stands up against her, tight and enclosed and he nods once, “Are those your sisters?”

“Yes.” She grits her teeth, hides her face in the crook of his neck to shield herself.

“Weren’t they arriving tomorrow?”

“Duckie, I’m not sure what this is but you need to explain yourself!”

“Stop calling me Duckie!” She screeches over her husband’s shoulder with angry eyes. Tucking her head safely into position, she darts her gaze up at him, “Can I have your shirt please?”

“Yeah.” Jackson doesn’t take a second to think about it, just quickly unbuttons his white shirt before handing it to her, watching as she manoeuvres into the long sleeves and pulls it down her thighs.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, I’ll just-” He waves a finger around, clearing his throat. Obviously he’s a little thrown off by it all just as much as she is. “I’ll go get dressed.”

When he walks away, April pushes her hair behind her ears as she waits for the questionnaire that’s sure to ensue.

Her three wicked sisters stop on the opposite side of the kitchen counter, hands tapping and eyes building out of their heads.

“Is that your husband?”

“Does daddy know you let him do that to you in the kitchen?”

“Duckie got herself a Donald!”

“Is that your husband though?!”

“He is fine.”

“No wonder you let him grope you like that. I would too.”

“Bet you’re glad you stayed a virgin for him, right?”

“Is he, you know, engorged? I hear men of colour are bigger than most guys?”

“Kimmie!”

“Stop talking!”

“Were you baking, by the way? Or was that just the smell of your own burning muffin?”

Damn it.


	6. The Interrogation

“Wasn’t your flight booked for tomorrow morning?”

April slides a third mug of hot tea along the kitchen worktop as she asks her question, eyes confused and brows still raised.

“Oh, well, Alice has to be back at college on the 28th, so we thought we’d come a day earlier, leave a day earlier.”

The oldest Kepner, Libby, sister explains, blowing into her tea a little bit too sweetly. She grins over at April, shares a quick side-glance with their own sisters, “Dish.”

“I’m sorry?” April frowns, feeling a lot of pressure beneath their demanding brown eyes.

Kimmie pipes up then, rolling her eyes in fake annoyance, “Spill the beans on that fine piece of fudge in the bedroom.”

“The f-” She stops herself from questioning further, instead just shakes her head and licks her lips with a resigned smile, “We are not doing this.”

“Doing what? Duckie, we’re your sisters. We’re supposed to tell each other stuff like this. I told when Todd was having erectile dysfunction. This is like that.” Libby butts in on her end of the table, long fingers wrapped around her tea.

“This is not like that, and I’m honestly still not sure why you keep bringing that up because it doesn’t seem like something you’d wanna tell people about, but-”

Alice, the youngest of the four, reaches a hand out to her older sis, patting the back of April’s hand kindly. “We’re sorry, it’s just that- This is a surprise!”

“You don’t think I know that?” Her hazel eyes widen just a little bit more, lips dry and curled at the corners, “I didn’t think anyone was going to marry me, ever. Much less him!”

She points a finger around down the hallway, obviously referencing to Jackson who had buried himself away with work somewhere in the apartment.

Not that she could blame him. She’d escape from her sisters, too, if she had the chance.

“Then tell us how it happened!”

She doesn’t quite feel like reliving that whole sham of their affair again, so she tells it straight and short and simple and easily.

“I needed a job, he hired me. Apparently I caught his eye. We had lunch. We dated briefly. Love at first sight, I suppose.”

“Well that sounds,” Kimmie pulls a face, eyes her older sister carefully, “romantic.”

The oldest redhead nudges her side then, shooting April an apologetic glance, “It sounds lovely.” She nods, as though it’ll confirm her statement.

She can’t lie to save her life. Seems like April was the only to successfully earn those genes.

“It sounds boring, I know. But- But we’re happy, and I’m happy. And you should be happy for me, okay? Because this is…good. It’s great. So, just be happy for me. Please? And that means never mentioning what you witnessed earlier to anybody.”

“Our lips are sealed.”

“Can I tell mom, though? I feel like she might want to know about it?”

“No.”

Libby stands up from her perch then, taking a final sip of her tea before she flicks her browning hair behind her shoulders and smiles across at her younger sister.

“So,” she starts, lifting her eyebrows suggestively, “Where are we staying tonight?”

“I- uh-” April swallows a nervous breath.

Obviously, because their flight was booked for a day later, their hotel room won’t be available for another day. And as a responsible, money-saving adult, she doesn’t want to make them hike out and find a room or two and spend a ton.

And while it’s not really her place to decide, because she chooses to ignore the fact that this is now her apartment too, she figures Jackson wouldn’t mind letting them stay over for one night.

It couldn’t hurt, right? The guy had like three guest bedrooms. She doubted it’d be an inconvenience for him.

“You can stay here.” She attempts to crack a smile, feeling her shoulders weigh as her decision lays heavily down on her.

Now she’d just have to move all of her stuff into her husband’s room for the night. Her sisters are nosy, curious, stick-their-face-in-where-it-isn’t-wanted people. They’d snoop.

And she can’t have them find out about her little arrangement. She’d be the laughing stock of the family if anyone ever found out.

\- - - -

They get settled into the guest bedrooms about an hour later.

April had somehow miraculously managed to move all of her personal items and essentials into Jackson’s room for the night.

Granted, he wasn’t thrilled at the idea of having to wake up and walk into a kitchen probably full of gossiping mid-western doe-eyed women. But he’d settle, he’d concede.

Because April did an enormous favour for him without actually knowing the slightest thing about him, and it was the least he could do.

“You don’t think they know, do you?”

“Given what they saw, I doubt it.”

There’s a faint smirk behind his voice and she rolls her eyes in return, watching as he walks into his bedroom, their bedroom for the night, with a toothbrush hanging past his lips.

April sits down on the bed, feeling the cushiony mattress beneath her backside. It’s the same as hers, in her room, but somehow comfier.

Or is that just a side effect of her being completely and utterly infatuated with him? Everything of his smelt nicer, looked better?

She curls her legs up beneath her and drops her hands to her lap, rubbing hand cream around her wrist tenderly.

He heads back into the en-suite after plucking a pair of sleep pants from a drawer and smiling at her, toothpaste-covered teeth and all. What a dork.

This is weird, she thinks. Getting ready for bed in the same room as someone else, in the same actual bed as a man. This isn’t her.

She’s the kind of girl who falls asleep tucked in bed nicely, neatly, with an alarm on her clock and her curtains drawn. She’s the kind to have sleepers beside her bed, not a man’s watch.

But now the curtains are closed blinds, and the alarm is on his side, set at his wake time.

She’s adjusting, and the change is happening faster than she could have ever guessed it would.

“I’m not sure what to say to them.” She breathes out, lowering her gaze to her legs and taking note of her many goosebumps beneath the small hairs.

Great, she needs to shave. How ladylike. Damn it.

Jackson walks into her range of sight then, one hand on his hip and a glass of water in his other hand.

She slowly looks up at him, eyes dangerously focused in on his bare chest.

“Just tell them what Amelia told you to.”

“I would, but-” She gulps a breath, feels her cheeks turn a faint shade of pink as he moves, closer, nearer to her to place the glass down on her bedside table. “But they’re my sisters. What if they don’t buy it? They know me, Jackson. They know I wouldn’t just date someone and marry him after five minutes.”

The darker skinned man nods, listening to her talk, green eyes wide and helpful. “Then lie.”

“This is already lying.” She reminds him, suddenly waving both arms around the room, back and forth between them.

“Lie to cover up a lie.” He frowns softly, takes a seat at the bottom of the bed, moving a hand out to wrap around her calf. “Politics.”

“And a double negative has a positive outcome?”

“That’s mathematics.” He smirks, squeezes her leg when she swats his chest.

April giggles slightly, feeling her eyes widen as she realises that his warm hand is curled around her leg, skin to skin.

“Uh, I have to-” Shave? Wax? Disappear?

“You have to what?” He pulls his hand away from her then, brows knitted when he senses that he’s done something wrong.

“I just- ” She doesn’t need to be ashamed of it, does sh? It’s natural, normal for women. “I need to shave my legs.” She mumbles out quickly, casting her gaze up on his ceiling as she notices his face erupt into a grin. “It’s not funny.”

“No, I’m just amused you think I give a crap.”

“Who says it’s for your benefit?” She grimaces, peeking back over at him sharply. “Maybe I just don’t like it? Why do men think that women wanting to take pride in their appearance is for their benefit?”

“Because it’s the middle of the night and I doubt you’d be so concerned about this if you were in bed alone.” Jackson states, raising a brow knowingly and making a point to grab her leg again, gently wrapping his long fingers around her ankle.

“Shut up.” She pouts, tugging a cushion from the other side of the bed and pulling it into her chest, arms wrapped around the corners protectively.

“Besides, there’s barely anything there.” Her husband informs her, tracing his index finger up her leg slowly, watching as cold shivers creep out over her skin. “I don’t care, April.”

“Then I suppose I don’t either.” She shrugs, drawing the inside of her bottom lip between her teeth when he pulls her down the bed by her legs, palms around her shins and body leaning over hers.

Jackson smirks, runs his hands up her legs to her knees before he lets go, instead reaches for her hands to pull her up and closer to him, “Good.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m not tired yet.”

“Well, I kind of am…”

“Well, talk to me, and then we’ll both fall asleep.”

April gasps at his intended joke, and she shoves the cushion in her hands against his shoulder. “Rude!”

“Come on.” He sighs, moving up on the bed until he reaches the other side.

He doesn’t tell her that she’s on his side, the left always behind his since he was little and had to share.

“What do you want me to talk about?” She smiles innocently, batting her lashes as he turns his bedside lamp off and lies down, irritably shifting to arrange his pillow.

Jackson lifts a brow and pushes himself up on both his elbows when he can’t seem to get comfy. “I don’t know.” He ducks his head and she’s tempted to run her hand over his faint cut, tempted to touch him. “Can you speak another language?”

“Do I look like I can speak anything other than English? Jackson, I can barely form a sentence in my own language sometimes.” She reasons, shaking her head and throwing herself back against the cushions.

“Your sentences sound parfait to me.”

She laughs at the way he pronounces the R, and finishes the word with an almost click of his tongue. Her eyes flicker open to glance up at his face, admiring his lips as he continues on in French, proudly smirking.

“Am I meant to be surprised that you speak French? Because I’m kind of not.”

Of course he can speak another language. Of course it sounds hot. Of course it makes her even weaker for him.

Damn it.

“Pardon?”

“My knowledge of the language is limited, okay? I know like…one thing.”

Jackson grins, eyes beaming down at her excitedly. “Which would be?” He leans up on his forearm as she prepares herself, and his left hand drops to her waist.

“Voulez-vous couchez avec moi, ce soir?”

The man erupts into a laugh then, lowering his head to her neck and pressing her lips faintly against her jawbone, breath warm and fuzzy and ticklish against her flesh.

“Ce serait mon plaisir.”

“I- what?” She quits her smile to frown, to lift her neck and cup the back of his head in her hand. She knew what she said, but hopefully his answer doesn’t mean he took it seriously.

This isn’t how she wants to go about that. Well, not with her sisters a couple of doors down, really.

“Ferme tes yeux.”

April continues to stare down at him in utter confusion, at a loss for understanding. She lets his hands push back against her shoulders, hands running up and down her arms slowly, sweetly.

He leans forward, lips to the weak spot behind her ear and voice hot, “Close your eyes.” He whispers, wicked smile pressing into her skin.

The redhead smiles amusedly, tilting her head to the side and letting her eyes drift shut as he kisses down her neck, hands gripping her sides as he moves to hover over her.

She swallows a nervous breath when she feels his weight above her, knees beside her thighs and lower body timidly pressing into her own. “What are you doing?”

Jackson shushes her, bringing his hands up to her face and cradling her cheeks, palms to jaw and thumbs sweeping her lips.

She remains still as he moves above her, repeatedly shifting his hands from her face to her arms, rhythmically tracing her flesh, ignoring the creases of her nighttime t-shirt.

“Ouvre ta bouche.”

She faintly remembers the word ‘bouche’ and catches the drift when she realises that her mouth is closed. Open your mouth.

April parts her lips slowly, and she feels the faint sweep of his thumb along her bottom lip, tanned pad to pink flesh.

She absentmindedly closes her mouth around his thumb as he touches the corner of her lips, and he slightly groans in return as she budges her hips, body finding comfort in a sleeping position.

He backs off of her then, smile on his face. Pulling his hand away from her touch, he reaches down to pull the covers up to her chest.

“Now go sleep.” He mutters to himself with a smug grin, slipping back into his side of the bed for the night.

She won’t understand how that worked in the morning.

\- - - -

Jackson wakes up before she does. His alarm goes off early, and he turns it off entirely before it rings again to wake her.

Obviously she’s under a lot of stress from this whole thing and it’s mainly his fault.

He asked her to do it, practically pleaded to get her to agree. He’s pretty sure that their arrangement counts as some kind of abuse, but if she’s going along with it, then how could it be bad?

The world could easily think they were legitimate with how they act around one another. They mesh well, seem to have an understanding. They can act in love, play the lovebird newlywed card if they need to.

It’s just an odd situation, one he never thought he’d force himself into, much less drag some innocent employee into.

She was hired to work, not serve as a plot device in his wicked little game.

But if it wasn’t his idea in the first place,is it really as bad as it seems? Or does that just make it worse because he didn’t have the courage to stop it, to force Amelia and Mark to find another solution?

“Good morning!”

There’s a pretty chipper greeting from behind him, and Jackson spins around to face one of his wife’s sisters. She seems young, so he guesses she’s the last one of the bunch. Alice?

“Morning.” He takes a sip of his coffee, holding out the pot in his free hand with a smile.

She waves a hand to turn it down, instead just sighs and takes a seat at the counter. She pulls on the strings of her dressing gown and shivers from the morning cold. “Thanks, but my body isn’t used to ingesting anything before noon.”

He nods, placing the pot back on the stand and flicking through the newspaper briefly, “I take it you’re the…calm…one of the four?” He raises a brow, notices her loaded sigh.

“Yeah. Definitely.” Alice folds her hands together in her lap, her shoulders raised, “I think I take after our dad rather than our mom. She can be a little…nutty?”

“And did April get that gene?”

“Well, you’re her husband. Shouldn’t you know that?” The young redhead picks up an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter, and she twirls it around in her hand for a moment.

Jackson shrugs casually, ignoring his minor slip. He’s not good at this stuff so early in the morning. “She’s a little neurotic to me. I’m just wondering how bad it gets?” He proudly scores himself a point for that catch.

“April is- She can be a bit…emotional, at times?” Alice stiffs a laugh, looks up at him as she bites a chunk out of her apple. “Don’t hurt her. Please.”

He’s not sure where her request comes from, but it’s obviously warranted and well placed.

“I would never dream of it.”

“And, you know, be careful with the other thing.”

“Sex?”

Her mouth tugs up in one corner and she nods with a small chuckle, “Yeah. She’s a Christian, and- She’s a lot more Christian than I am. She attends Church. So, just- Don’t make her- We were raised to think that intercourse before marriage was a sin, okay?”

“We’re married.”

“And yet I found a pair of her panties in the drawer in the guest room. You don’t seem very domesticated to me.”

“We-” Jackson begins, but finds himself cut off by his own gulp of air, sharp and tight in his throat.

Alice stands then, apple in her hand and eyes warning. “Look, I won’t tell anyone about…whatever it is you and my sister have got going on, because frankly I don’t know enough about it, or you, to judge, or have an opinion. But, if you hurt her,” She walks closer to him, jabs a finger against his chest with a much-too-innocent smile, “I’ll ruin you.”

He fakes a smile, though his hidden smirk is sincere. “I’ll try to remember that.”

Is her little sister seriously going to keep a check on him? Unbelievable.

“Good. Now, I need to go get dressed and you should probably wake my sister up because we’re going shopping.”

“Are you asking me to wake her up, or telling me?”

“Telling you.”

“Do I look like someone you wanna mess with?” He’s not gonna deal with her twisted little game.

“Do I?”

“What’s going on?”

Jackson spins around at the sound of the voice in the doorway and he spots April stood in her pyjamas, pulling her hair up into a loose ponytail.

“Me and your sister were just talking.”

“Sharing stories, you know.” Alice shrugs nonchalantly. “About you. Bonding.”

The youngest Kepner nudges his arm, and he feigns amusement, clearing his throat.

“Oh. Okay.” She steps closer into the room and pulls the coffee pot from the machine after taking a mug from the shelf.

“Are you working today?”

“Yeah.” Jackson breathes out, moving to stand beside her and leaning his elbows against the counter. He shoots a glare over at Alice, already sending him a look of death.

This will be fun.


	7. The Detraction

“So, just how is married life treating you?”

Alice slides into the seat across pfrom her sister, palms spread across the sticky wooden table and eyes wide, curiosity evident.

“It’s good.” The older Kepner smiles the faintest of acknowledgements, crossing her legs and dropping her hands into her lap properly, like a lady, like she thinks she should.

Alice rolls her eyes, dabs a finger against the sticky, round print left behind on the table, “Good? Is that it?” Her tone pitches as she talks, feigned surprise passing her sister by. “You mean there’s no honeymoon period?”

“Well, I- Well, yeah. Yes.” April nods slowly, unsurely, chewing at her lip and curling her tongue for a second. “Of course, there is a honeymoon period. Have you seen him? I can’t keep my hands off him!”

She grins with wide eyes, half convincing her younger sibling that she was actually telling the truth.

Alice would fall for it if she didn’t already know otherwise.

“I just meant, you know, it’s good because I have nothing to compare it to.” She raises her shoulders before dropping them, shrugging nonchalantly as a waiter approaches their table.

They order their food after a very quick glander at the menu, deciding on a basket-full of french fries and some chicken sandwiches with weird names that Alice can’t even begin to pronounce.

She’s surprised even April can. Had she been practicing? Perfecting the curl of her tongue, learning new words?

“I was thinking that when we’ve eaten, and gotten Lib and Kim back from wherever they went, we can go down to that lingerie place.”

Alice picks up a breadstick from the pot in front of her, biting into the end of it with a smirk.

“Um…why?” The older sister frowns, feeling her muscles tighten at the dreadful idea of spending time looking at fancy, overpriced, skimpy underwear.

“Because your sex life is only good, and I think we can make it great.”

“And underwear is the way to do that?”

“And lingerie is the way to do that.” Alice points out, with a raised brow and a smug grin spread across her lips. “That husband of yours sure seems like the kind of man who’d enjoy it.”

To Alice, Jackson came across as caring but demanding, only half of what she’d always envisioned as a spouse for her older sister.

He’s playing her, or maybe they’re even playing a game together, against one another. But Alice is certain is only going to end up losing to the city’s favourite former bachelor.

“You mean he seems like a pervert?”

“No.” She trails the word, eyes wide in amusement as her sibling’s naiveté. “I mean he’s a man man, not a man. You know? They like feeling in control, and powerful, and-”

“That’s already his job.” April falters, plucking another breadstick from the bunch and twirling it around as she talks. “And that makes no sense. I don’t- I don’t see how me in lacy underwear could make him feel more powerful. That’s just-” She haunches her shoulders, lips curled up at the sides. “I don’t get it.”

“Maybe that’s why your sex life is only good.”

“Yeah, well, maybe so. He’s just gonna have to deal with it.”

The younger Kepner had thought that talking about sex and anything remotely related to the topic would break April’s façade, but it hadn’t.

Growing up, the older sister had always been awkward talking about certain things, intercourse being a key problem area for her. She blushed, and got weird, and stuttered whenever someone asked something that made her slightest bit uncomfortable.

But now, now that she was all grown up, and finally able to act her age, and not feel as anxious around attractive men and the conversation starter that was sex, she was different, Alice had noticed.

Her big sister was a woman now, a married, made-over, beautiful woman.

But behind the twisted kind of game she was playing with a man so perfectly suited for her, her marriage was still just a sham, and her sex life was still at ground zero, but at least her lying skills had considerably improved.

And Alice was determined to get her to come clean. But that’s not to say she wasn’t happy for her.

“Who wants lingerie?!” There’s a cry of joy behind April’s head as he older sister approaches, carrying bright pink bags full of stuff.

Kimmie grins as she waves her new purchases around, stepping up by the side of their lunch table and pinching a breadstick.

“Have you ordered already?”

“Yep. Yeah, we have.” April nods, reaching down by her side to retrieve her purse, “But you know what? I think I, uh, forgot something back at the office, so- So, you guys enjoy your lunch, and- I’m sure you can make your way back to the apartment safely, right?” She hitches a brow, stands up to pull down the edge of her skirt, “Enjoy my sandwich. I’ll see you later.”

If it were any other day, she’d feel guilty about leaving her three sisters in some mall in a city foreign to them.

But guilt was on the bottom of her priority list today; curiosity was first.

\- - - -

“You can’t go in there!” Amelia tries to stop her from entering the man’s office, with a hand out in front of her chest and a file between her fingertips.

“I’m his wife, I can go wherever I want.” The redhead informs her, arms folded over her chest as she peeks over the brunette’s shoulder. “You told me that.”

“Yes, well, I shouldn’t have done in so many words.”

The assistant moves to step in front of her completely, curled hair blocking the glass door from sight.

“Amy. Please.”

“He’s busy.”

April takes a small second to ponder the possibilities before she asks her question, eyes sharp and lips dry. “Is there a woman in there?”

There’s a silence and April receives all the answers she needs when she hears a woman’s groan sound from inside her husband’s office.

Maybe she should have had sex with him. Maybe her presence and allowance to let him maybe get to third base wasn’t enough.

“Amelia.”

“It’s not what you think.” The brunette rolls her eyes before sliding the stack of folders down onto some intern’s desk and grabbing April by the arms. “It’s his mother.”

“His-” The redhead stammers, brushing her hair behind her ears and widening her eyes. She nods once, tries to comprehend the situation. “Oh.”

“Yes, and she’s not exactly… How do I put this?” Amelia pauses, shifting her eyes around the room as she spins to face the office, allowing April a look into the room. “…sweet? Yeah. She’s not sweet. She’s hardcore.”

“Right.” April gulps, almost chocking on a swallowed breath. She inhales deeply, “Does she know? You know, about me?”

The publicist nods straight away then, “Oh, yeah. She’s been in on it since day one.” She begins to walk towards her boss’ office and stops outside with her palm wrapped around the handle. “She just wants what’s best for her son.”

“So she’s not going to terrorise me?”

With a light laugh from the brunette, April steps beside her.

“No. She cares. If Jackson likes you, and chose you, then she’ll like you, too.” She nods to affirm her words, adding a quick ‘maybe’ as an afterthought.

April brushes a hand through her curls swiftly, her sisters long forgotten for the moment. Her new mother-in-law is a much bigger priority right now.

“So what exactly is she here for?”

“I’m not supposed to say, April.”

She sympathises, fingers curling around the metal handle tighter as Catherine Avery approaches the doorway.

“Five, four, three…two…”

Amelia drags the glass door open then, just as the older woman in the office reaches for the handle.

April feels all of the air in her lungs evaporate when she looks in her direction, eyes shining but dangerous at the same time.

Catherine casts her up and down, much like Jackson once had, taking in her appearance.

“You must be my daughter-in-law.”

“Yeah. Yes. Yes, I am- Hello.” April clenches her fist at her slip, chewing into her bottom lip as she forces a smile to match the woman’s polite one. “I’m April.”

The darker skinned woman raises a sharp brow at her introduction. “You’re plain.”

“Mom.”

The redhead peers over the woman’s shoulder to see her husband stood against the door, arms folded over his chest in irritation.

“Don’t ‘mom’ me! It’s a good kind of plain. She looks nice. Simple, but…nice.”

“I’m not simple.” April feels the need to unconsciously interject, lips parted after her words escape in surprise.

Catherine smirks at that, tilting her head to one side and eyeing her carefully. “No, I suppose you’re not.” She squints, turns to face her son proudly. “I like her.”

“Great.” Jackson fakes a smile, clearly careless about his mother’s opinion on his wife.

“I need to talk to you, actually.”

If she’s already got an in with the mother, then she might as well continue down her warpath.

“I need to talk to you, too.” He nods over at April, ushering her into the room and waiting for his mother to move from the doorway.

“Oh, well, I see how it is. I’ll plan a dinner for us later then, alright? April, you’re welcome to join.”

Catherine grins, glancing back and forth between the two younger adults cautiously.

“Don’t do anything I would do.”

“Bye.” Jackson slams the door as she leaves, eyes rolling in annoyance.

He runs a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh.

April settles down into the seat in front of his desk as he copies, dropping into his warmed, comfortable, warn chair. “Does Alice know?”

“What?”

“I mean, does she- Does she knows that we’re- Fake? Has she said anything to you?”

“April, I’ve barely spent five minutes with either one of your sisters.” Jackson replies, brows raised and eyes flickering over her face as he licks his lips, convincing her of his words.

Is this what she meant when she said he played with women?

Probably.

Could he let her know that her little sister was in on their little act?

Definitely not.

She’d cave.

“Right. Yeah.” She nods to herself mostly, slouching in the seat and dropping her handbag down onto the carpeted floor. Her heels dig into the soft rug, and she flings her coat over the arm of the chair. “Of course.”

“Yeah, so, listen-” He begins, standing up again after a second’s thought and walking over to her side of his desk, shifting onto the edge and sliding his hands in his pockets. “We have a problem. That- That’s why my mom was here.”

“What is it?” April perks up, lifting her gaze to meet his own intense one.

Money? Business? Tabloids?

“Somebody I once had a…fling…with…is claiming I got her pregnant.”

Damn. Shit. Fuck.

“What?”

Her nostrils flare in disbelief, eyes widening with a sharp sting behind her lids.

Of course. He’d be too smart to have an affair in his office. Of course, he’d done it somewhere else, just to spite her.

“I didn’t, April.” He blinks, leaning down to face her more directly.

His eyes are convincing her of his truth, but she’s begun to learn how he operates.

“I don’t- It’s been like ten years like we had sex.”

“Who is she?”

“A girl from my high school. I went back home over Christmas, you know, and met up with a bunch of people from back then. She was there, but I don’t- We didn’t have sex.”

“So she’s, what, lying?”

“She’s telling the press that I knocked her up and then told her to abort the baby. Now she’s asking for money.” He groans, picking up a newspaper from his desk and handing it over to his wife.

April takes in the cover story of the local newspaper, a woman around her age with dark skin and glasses gracing the cover with her hands clutching her stomach. “Adored and abandoned”?

“This is so television movie, I swear.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Look, you don’t. You can’t, really. I’d be surprised if you ever trusted me, to be honest. But, right now, I really need you to.” He nods, blinks rapidly with deeper green eyes than his usual. “I was abstinent back then. I didn’t- I haven’t had sex in like a year, okay? Believe me. And I’m not rushing into it again.”

She feels her cheeks flush at his words, for some unknown reason, and she finds herself willing to believe him.

“You’re not?”

“It ruins things, April.” Her husband frowns, “And I don’t want to ruin this.”

“Oh.” She breathes out, feeling a weight placed on her chest as her body tightens.

Damn.

“I want you, when I’m ready, and when you’re ready.” He divulges, searching her gaze for some hope, “I want you, and I think I’ve known that since before I even met you. There’s a little secret for you.”

“You’re really good with words, you know.” She grins girlishly, ducking her head to hide her reddened cheeks.

He lowers himself down to her level, hands on her knees, “I know.” He smirks boyishly, “But before we get into any of that, I need to fix this.”

“We need to fix this. We’re a team now. For better or for worse, right? I think this constitutes a worst case scenario, don’t you?”

\- - - -

“April, tell me a little bit more about yourself.” Catherine leans back against her padded seat as the waiter pours her a little more wine.

They’ve enjoyed a three-course meal by the time the interrogation comes around.

With her sisters back at the apartment, keeping busy in their antics and probably snooping through the married couple’s stuff, April had somehow managed to make it through dinner unscathed.

The mother-in-law is buzzed from her wine, but her tongue is still sharp and her stare is still intimidating as heck.

They’ve talked about work, and Boston, and family. But now the conversation has shifted onto the latest physical addition to the Avery Foundation.

“There’s not much to tell.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that for a minute. My son can’t stop talking about you. Seems to me like there’s a lot to tell.”

The former intern feels Jackson grasp her hand beneath the table, thumb running over her palm and pads of his fingertips smoothing her freckled flesh.

April smiles softly, muses Catherine’s curiosity.

“Really?” She smiles at her husband from the corner of her eye for a second until she catches sight of something more alarming.

“Not that much.” The businessman smirks with a casual shrug, denying his mother’s truthful claims. He wraps an arm around the back of April’s seat as she leans forward, keeping her gaze locked on something, someone across the room. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

Ignoring the nickname and the desire to internally shriek, April loosely shakes her curls, pulling down the edge of her evening dress.

She holds up a finger and smiles over at Catherine politely. “Would you excuse me for a second?”

“Of course.” The Avery woman waves out both hands, freely letting her new daughter stand up and exit the table. She waits until April is a few steps before speaking, sharing a knowing look with her son. “I can see the appeal.”

“The appeal?” He picks up his scotch as his eyes widen and his brows lift, confused by his mother’s approval.

“She’s wholesome. A good match, good for you.”

He sometimes forgets it’s all a stunt.

“Right.”

“Though I do have to say, she’s a little bit odd. I’ve never known anyone excuse themselves from dinner to chat with a waiter.” Catherine purses her lips, clasping her hands beneath her chin, dropping her elbows onto the neat table cloth. “Wait.”

“She’s just a nice-” Jackson stops as he turns to admire what his mother was so entranced by. “No.”

“Yes. I do believe your lovely little wife has spotted your new scandal.”

Across the room, April has stopped dead in her tracks in front of a woman of her height, maybe an inch taller, but darker skinned.

Her black curls are worn loosely, pulled to the side. Her glasses adorn her sight and she feels her lungs dry when she spots the redhead.

“Hi.”

“Hello.” April sweeps her eyes over the woman, trying to refrain herself from accusing her of something without clearance. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” She sticks out a hand, almost forces the obviously pregnant woman shake it.

Her stomach now at the stage of protruding, Stephanie Edwards awkwardly shakes her hand, “I don’t think we have, no.”

“I’m April Avery.”

Her mother had always told her to play nice. To make friends and be a good girl and never wrongfully accuse someone without proof.

Her aunt Maisie however? Aunt Maisie had told her to keep her friends close, but her enemies closer.

She’d never given that much thought until now.

“I believe you’re supposed to be carrying my husband’s child?”

“Yes.” Stephanie nods, flicking her gaze over towards the Avery’s table. He sighs, scratches her forehead. “Look, I’m only here to talk to him. Not to you.”

“Right. Okay.” April nods, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear before dropping her hands down in front of her lap, diamond ring flashing smoothly in the dimly lit restaurant. “But, you see, the thing is…He doesn’t want to talk to you. But I do.”

She taps a finger at her own chest, between her breasts and beneath her simple necklace.

“Because, well, I’m not a fan of women claiming to be birthing my husband’s children. Do you see my problem? I mean, if anybody’s going to be having his kids, it’s gonna be me.”

“Why are you convinced he’s telling the truth? Did he tell you how he got me pregnant?

“How? No. But let’s face it, sex isn’t exactly a huge mystery.” She opens her hands in front of her, holding them out from each other at a certain distance, smirk toying on her lips.

“This is ridiculous. Look, I just want to talk-”

“No.” April denies her, staring her down intently. “My husband, or a reporter looking to make a good buck for a juicy headline, may not know what an actual pregnant woman looks like, but I do. I’m an aunt, three times over, and you? You’re not pregnant.”

“I am.” Stephanie clutches at her stomach at that moment, eyes sweeping the floor as April continues to analyse her.

“If you were, you wouldn’t have a minibar-sized bottle of Jack in your handbag or a pack of Malboro Lights. Yes. I’m not blind. Or maybe you are pregnant, but just careless about your baby’s health. Which, I mean, I’m sure people would love to hear about an unfit mother trying to raise a child. And if you are pregnant, and Jackson is the father, I’m sure he’s gonna have fun in court claiming all parental rights.”

“I-”

“I’m talking to you, not with you.”

She’s either making her mother, and God, very ashamed right.

Or she’s making Lexie, and Amelia, and her new family very proud.

You can’t win both fights. And she isn’t losing this one.

“So, are you pregnant, or are you just trying to extortion my husband?”

“Look, I’m not sure why he married you or what he even sees in you, but I don’t think he’d be happy to know his wife was talking to the mother of his unborn child like this.”

Whether she was pregnant or not wasn’t even Stephanie’s biggest problem. And, not that she was, but if she was in fact pregnant, money would definitely be the highest thing on her list of priories.

Her biggest problem? April Avery, née Kepner.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a dinner to get back to.” She fakes a smile, biting her lower lip sweetly. “And then I’m gonna go home and blow my husband.”

Damn it. What happened to her?

“You expect me to just disappear?”

“No, I expect to see you again. But at least you now know I’m not gonna roll over and let you walk all over us. We’re married. We’re happy. Have fun trying to ruin that.” She nods with her words, confirming her statement.

Maybe this is the kind of control, the sort of power play, the manipulation skills he’d been teaching her.

“I’ll see you around, Stephanie. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

Shit.


End file.
